


Son of a Hunter: Operation Sherwood

by I_Am_Ox



Category: Jurassic Park - All Media Types, Jurassic Park Original Trilogy (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 46,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24965380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_Ox/pseuds/I_Am_Ox
Summary: Meet Robert Muldoon's son, Steven, two years after his escape from the Isla Nublar. All alone and struggling to come to terms with life following his father's death, he just wants to forget InGen and Jurassic Park. However, when Lex and Tim are kidnapped by a mystery organisation, John Hammond asks the eighteen-year-old to lead a desperate rescue mission.Contains dinosaurs, badassery and top quality banter, what!
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	1. Night Terrors

_London calling to the faraway towns, now war is declared, and battle come down, London calling to the underworld, come out of the cupboard, you boys and girls…_

The distant music floated on the wind, weaving its way between the trees of Hyde Park and eventually reaching the ears of Steven Muldoon. He turned up his collar against the brisk December breeze, cast a rueful glance to the skies and continued on his way home.

The sound of The Clash gradually faded as Steve left Hyde Park and made his way through the darkening East London streets. Streetlights began to ignite as he walked, each casting an individual, insignificant cone of light against the winter gloom. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed as a fire engine threaded its way through the rush hour traffic, no doubt on a mission to perform some act of heroism.

_Heroism. Look where heroism gets you._

The bitter thought flashed through the young man’s mind. He was a young man indeed now, at 18 years of age. Two years since he was orphaned.

_Two whole years._

When stated in such a fashion it sounded like a long time, but the events of that fateful weekend on the Isla Nublar felt like the had occurred only yesterday. The physical pain had subsided long ago, but the psychological impact was still there – strong as ever, along with a tremendous sense of loss. A crippling feeling of emptiness that inescapably followed him throughout his every waking moment, and most of his sleeping ones.

Steve had despised his time in hospital during the immediate aftermath of the Isla Nublar incident. He could remember waking up for the first time, aware of the uncanny sensation of being somehow distanced from his aching, battered body. People had been there, smartly dressed ones, waiting at the foot of his bed. One of them had asked how he was feeling, before inquiring if Steve would mind answering a few questions. Steve had nodded groggily, but was not expecting the barrage of questions that followed. Slowly, he had answered them as best he could – they were mainly geared around Jurassic Park, what he had seen, what he had done. This had brought home to Steve the fate of his father, the realisation sweeping over him like a tide and causing the tears saved from outside the maintenance shed to flow. Despite this, the questioning had continued and Steve, distressed and confused, gave increasingly vague answers until at last a doctor arrived and chased the suited men away.

Steve had been discharged from hospital several weeks later and immediately flown to a large InGen complex in Washington – Steve couldn’t remember where exactly, his memory was increasingly blurred from this point onwards. He was taken into a building that felt uncomfortably like the administration centre, back on the island. He had been ushered into a small office where several executives were waiting for him – Steve recognised a few of them as the same people that had questioned him in hospital. He was told that his services as warden were no longer required, due to the immediate closure of the Jurassic Park enterprise. Of course, Steve had immediately asked what was being done about his father’s death, but was instantly shown a clause in his contract detailing that any incident involving Muldoon senior would result in instant termination of Steve’s contract, no questions asked. There was also a clause regarding secrecy, stating that all employees were subject to certain signatory acts that the Muldoons had apparently agreed to – Bob had always joked about reading the small print. Dumbfounded, Steve had demanded to see John Hammond but was told, in so many words, to get lost.

Steve still had nightmares about this ordeal – possibly even more so than the actual happenings on the Isla Nublar. After all, he had been brought up as a hunter, and facing dinosaurs in combat was no different to taking down a bloated man-eater. But this complete and utter abandonment was something else altogether – in every sense of the word, he was alone, and this scared him far more than any Reptilian horror ever could.

Steve had never told anyone about his nightmares, nor his past for that matter. Even if InGen hadn’t sworn him to secrecy, there was nothing to be gained from grassing the company up – besides, who in their right mind was going to believe an 18-year-old refuse collector of dubious tax authenticity. That was what he was reduced to now, of course – Steve no longer led the life of a game warden. Instead, he spent his days traipsing the streets of London, tracking nothing more dangerous than Poodles and hunting only tin cans and crisp packets – objects not known for their deadly nature.

_Living the dream._

Although Steve had lost almost all of his possessions on the Isla Nublar, his passport and savings had been kept on the mainland by InGen and subsequently returned to him. The money had been just enough to buy him a flight to Heathrow and rent him a grubby little East London flat. He considered it better just to lay low and get on with life after Jurassic Park, not to mention life after Bob Muldoon. Steve had been brought up to take care of himself and had no problem staying alive – it was just the absence of a friendly face that was the issue.

Steve was nearing the end of his short walk through the maze of residential streets and back alleys that lead to the estate containing his abode. The final passage was the longest and coincidently the darkest, as the watery winter sun had almost completely faded into black by the time he reached it. He entered the alley and strode on, hunching his shoulders against the freezing wind that was funnelled down the urban valley of tower blocks and multi-story car parks.

Steve was around halfway down the passageway when he noticed them at first – a group of about six youths, each brandishing a small bottle in hand and frequently taking swigs of the liquid contained within. Somehow, Steve doubted that it was orange juice.

He considered his next move; the gang were at the far end of the alley, meaning that he could easily turn back and take the long way round to his estate. A while ago, Steven Muldoon would have simply walked on and taken his chances with the gang – after all, this was a man who fought rogue Lions, rampaging Elephants and escaped Velociraptors for living, so a drunken group of kids should pose no threat to him whatsoever. But now things were different, and the thought of carrying on didn’t even cross Steve’s mind. Something had changed in the young man in the aftermath of Jurassic Park – it was as if a part of him had been left behind on that tropical island he knew so well. A part of him he had never recovered.

The cold wind whipping about him, Steve wearily turned on his heel and retraced his steps out of the alley. As he neared the end of passage, he heard a noise from behind and glanced back over his shoulder – there was a disturbance among the youths.

It seemed a figure had entered the alley from the end nearest the gang and walked straight into them. The figure was a boy of about fourteen, carrying a rucksack. Steve could hear raised voices and, as far as could make out, the youths wanted something from the newcomer. Apparently, this something was not delivered, and a scuffle broke out. The fight didn’t last long and the boy was soon pinned against the wall by two of the gang members, while the others went through his rucksack. Then, there was an exclamation of tipsy triumph as one of the searchers pulled out a small item and waved it aloft. Steve was frozen; he could do nothing more than stand there and watch, his fascination similar to when he had watched the Tyrannosaur devour the trouser-less lawyer two years ago – except this time, in a situation where he could possibly be of greater use, doing nothing.

At this point, the boy said something that obviously angered his captors and received a punch for his troubles. The two holding him shoved him to the floor and unleashed a barrage of kicks, the kid curling up in an attempt to protect himself from the violent onslaught. One of the other youths eventually pulled the two attackers away from their victim and the group moved out of the alley, laughing amongst themselves and smashing their bottles on the ground.

Finally, Steve shook himself out of his daze. He took off back down the alley in the direction of the gang, moving faster than he had done for a very long time. He soon reached the crumpled body of the boy, who was struggling to stand.

“You okay?” Steve asked guiltily.

The kid ignored him and scrabbled about for his rucksack, his hand eventually clasping the straps. He finally managed to get to his feet and stumbled off into the night, back the way he had come just minutes before, leaving Steve standing in the alley, alone with his thoughts.

_Shit._

Steve stared at the ground and saw blood – lots of blood. He cursed soundly and kicked the wall in frustration.

_What the hell is happening to me?_

Steve stood there for a few seconds before trudging out of the alley, glancing around for any trace of the boy or the gang more in hope than expectation. Of course, there was nothing to be seen.

He made his way up the external stairway at the back of his apartment block, the wind doing its best to rip him from the metal framework, and walked seven doors down. The eighth was his. His frozen hands fumbled with his keys and, as the first flecks of snow began to fall, he let himself in and slammed the door shut behind him.

The interior of the apartment was dark and Steve felt his way into the tiny kitchenette, his fingers following the wall until he reached the light switch. The lights buzzed on dimly, illuminating most of the apartment. He worked his way around turning on the lights, knowing which ones had working bulbs. This didn’t take him long – there were only four rooms as such, separated by thin partition walls.

Steve removed his orange work jacket and threw it deftly onto a peg behind the door. As he did so, he saw there were three envelopes sitting on the doormat.

_Strange… Who knows I live here?_

He picked the three letters up and sat down on his grimy sofa. The first letter contained an invoice, demanding that he pay the outstanding rent on his flat, or else. Truth be told, Steve had been receiving these letters for weeks and nothing had happened – he hoped it would stay that way, at least until payday.

The second letter was encased in a spotless white envelope, the kind often employed by legal firms, seeming out of place in Steve’s current surroundings. He ripped the letter open with a flourish, half expecting to find a court summons inside. Instead, he discovered the envelope contained a folded piece of A4 and a smaller, rectangular piece of thicker paper.

Steve unfolded the A4 sheet and took an involuntary intake of breath. The logo in the top right corner was that of InGen. The creators of Jurassic Park. His old employers. The company his father had lost his life serving.

_How the hell did they know where to find me?_

Needless to say, this was the first time Steve had received any sort of communication from the genetics company – he imagined they had conveniently forgotten he existed, especially considering the terms on which they parted. He hastily began to read the document.

_Dear Mr. Muldoon,_

_I hope this letter finds you well._

_I am writing to most humbly request your consultation upon a matter of the utmost importance. Unfortunately, the nature of this advice is such that you will be required to attend a meeting at my place of residence, but please rest assured, your service fee will be more than adequate. In fact, I am offering you the sum of ten thousand pounds in cash to be provided upon your arrival. I trust that you will not let me down._

_I have included in this correspondence an aeroplane ticket to Washington D.C. and have also taken the liberty of arranging a private chauffeur to collect you from the airport and transport you to my abode upon the arrival of your flight._

_Yours sincerely,_

_John Hammond_

_C.E.O._

_InGen Corp._

Steve had to read the letter again, and then once more before it sunk in.

_Firstly; what an utter, utter bastard._

_Secondly; why on earth would he ask for my help after all this time?_

_Thirdly; When I was in trouble, he wouldn’t even face me like a man. Palmed me off like a bloody stray dog. But when it’s the other way round, he expects me to come running!_

_Fourthly; ten thousand pounds?! I could pay my rent for years with that and still have enough to buy a proper telly…_

Bewildered, Steve took a closer look at the smaller piece of paper – it was indeed an airline ticket, from London Heathrow to Washington. The date of the flight was, funnily enough, tomorrow.

_The question is, do I want to get involved with InGen and that wanker Hammond again? Probably better to keep away from him and his shitty corporation, healthier too…_

Steve could think of plenty of reasons either way, but eventually the rent invoice, lying discarded on the table, caught his eye – and in particular, the line that read “Final Notice: Outstanding Payment”.

_Looks like I don’t have a bloody choice. Can’t risk getting turfed out of this place, I’ve nowhere else to go._

Steve came to a reluctant conclusion. He tossed the letter down and walked over to a large cupboard, secured with a combination padlock. This was the only object in the flat that belonged to Steve; the other furnishings (if they could be described as such) came along with the apartment.

Steve set the tumblers on the well-worn padlock to the correct position – the numbers read 7734 – and it slipped open with a slight click. Inside, the apparently unremarkable cupboard contained all of Steve’s worldly possessions: his passport and documents, an envelope containing a small quantity of loose change, an old alarm clock, a pair of white overalls (courtesy of the hospital), a couple of t-shirts, his combat trousers & hunting belt, Bob Muldoon’s hat, a pocketbook and a small plastic card.

The latter two objects had been gifts from the Murphy children – they had visited Steve shortly after he woke up in hospital. Obviously under orders, they had awkwardly thanked him for his help and wished him well before being ushered out by two people Steve assumed to be their parents. However, despite drifting in and out of consciousness, Steve distinctly remembered Lex distracting her mum and dad by pointing out the window, giving Tim a chance to place two small objects on the warden’s bedside table. Then, he had hauled his small frame up onto the hospital bed and whispered in Steve’s ear, “When you’re better, come and see me back home. I want to know all about the Triceratops.”

On Steve’s bedside table was a small paperback book, entitled “The Spotter’s Guide to Dinosaurs.” Adorably, Tim had written out his full name and address on the inside cover, just in case.

The other object was a small plastic card upon which was inscribed the code “XP-011972”, along with the Jurassic Park logo. Steve supposed Lex must have taken it from the control room before things got greasy and figured she should give it back.

Steve picked up the book and carefully turned the pages. On each there was a picture of a dinosaur, along with a paragraph on the depicted animal’s characteristics. Steve smiled as he saw the faded pencil tick beside the picture of a Triceratops for the umpteenth time – Tim had seen that one.

Steve reached deeper into the cupboard and pulled out the alarm clock, padlocked the doors shut and consulted the airline ticket again, setting the hands on the clock accordingly. He stood for a moment, preparing himself; then hit the light switch and slumped down on the sofa, instantly falling into a fitful sleep.

_There were lights above his head, extremely bright ones, their brilliant glare mirrored in his eyes – he wasn’t sure how he knew that…_

_He suddenly became aware there were people standing by his bed talking, just out of his field of vision, but try as he might, he could not hear what was being said…_

_He tried to crane his neck and catch a glimpse, but this effort was brought up short by an almost material wall of agony searing through his body. His body? He couldn’t feel his legs! He tried kicked out in fright, desperately attempting to reassure himself his limbs were still there. Sure enough, more pain exploded through his semi-consciousness. Steve was forced to keep still, the throbbing subsiding slightly as he did so…_

_Listening out, he noticed the voices by his bed had changed pitch – they were getting closer. He realised they were angry, but he couldn’t for the life of him make out the words…_

_The speech echoed round his head, seeming to bounce off the walls of his skull. He knew he must have cried out in terror because the voices immediately began to recede, replaced by the feeling of strong hands gripping his body. They held him tighter and tighter still, He shook himself frantically, ignoring the returning agony but to no avail – they wouldn’t let go! Exhausted, he summoned one last rush of energy and rolled over and over, falling down, away from those sharp, vicious hands…_

*Thump*

Steve woke up on the floor.


	2. Appointment in Washington

The sleek limousine glided through the rush-hour traffic, its elegant black exterior emblazoned with the InGen logo in multiple locations. Inside, Steve was sitting on the back seat, contemplating his appointment with Mr John Hammond.

_Seems like he's laying it on pretty thick. What the bloody hell is this all about?_

Steve had been picked up promptly from his abode in London and whisked away to the airport, from where he had flown first class to Dulles International. Now, he was being driven swiftly out of Washington, apparently on the way to the InGen top dog’s private abode. As if to confirm this thought, a manicured voice spoke over the speaker recessed in the footwell.

“Sir, we are approaching Mr Hammond’s mansion.”

_Thank you, Jeeves._

The car turned a sharp left and drove through a stone archway, a security barrier lifting to allow the car through. They sped down a long gravel driveway and approached a building that was almost too big to describe as a mansion. There were ornate towers, turrets, battlements, and windows, lots and lots of windows.

_Driver must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, this is bloody Buckingham Palace!_

The limousine pulled up outside the main entrance and the chauffeur disembarked, swiftly opening the rear door and offering his hand to help Steve out. He made a point of ignoring the proffered limb and stepped out of the car, making his way up a dramatic stone flight of steps to the porch – the structure looked as if it had been designed to accommodate a family of giants.

_Typical Hammond, always goes for the massive front door. Doesn’t matter to him if there’s nothing behind it, just as long as there’s a nice big way in._

The massive wooden door swung open before Steve even reached it. Standing there was a large man in a not-quite-large-enough suit, a tiny waiter’s cloth draped somewhat comically over his right shoulder.

“Good evening, Mr Muldoon. Mr Hammond is expecting you. Please, follow me.”

The butler spoke in a similar manner to the chauffeur, as if his voice had been designed with the sole purpose of accommodating those words – a man born to serve the upper class.

_I bet his name is Smyth-Parker._

Steve obliged and followed the man through a maze of corridors, stairways and halls. Eventually, they stopped at a mahogany door that bore the word “Study” on a plaque. The butler knocked, a voice called from the other side, and the servant opened the door, striding in elegantly.

“Your appointment has arrived, sir.” Steve heard the man say, without a trace of emotion. He took a deep breath, and followed the butler in.

The room, like everything else, was huge. One wall was almost entirely taken up by a floor-to-ceiling window and the others were hung with paintings – something told Steve they were all originals. In the centre of the room, John Hammond was sitting behind a desk that was cluttered with papers and instruments. Steve noted with interest that there were no computers present.

“Ah, Mr Muldoon! So glad you could make it!” Hammond guffawed, rising to greet his guest as the butler turned on his heel and strode out. “Please, do sit down. I trust you had a pleasant journey?”

Steve nodded slightly, a little overwhelmed by the plush luxury of his surroundings. He sat down in the chair Hammond indicated, noticing as he did that the floor was covered with an expensive-looking Persian rug.

“You must be hungry, Steven! You don’t mind if I call you Steven, do you?” Steve nodded slightly once again; an ambivalent response.

“Excellent, excellent! I’ll ring for some provisions.” Hammond continued, apparently oblivious to his guest’s distrust.

Steve decided that mere silence wasn’t going to spark the desired reaction. “Mr Hammond, I’m not sure why…” He began.

“Please, please! I insist you call me John.” Hammond cut him off, maintaining his demeanour of jovial host without blinking an eye.

Steve took a deep breath and continued. “Fine, John.” Look, I don’t…”

The young man was cut off once again by the re-entry of the butler, this time carrying a flamboyant silver tray, laden with food.

“Goddamit.” Steve muttered under his breath. Hammond didn’t hear, or at least pretended not to.

“Good show, good show.” Hammond murmured as the butler set the tray down on the desk. “Dig in, my dear boy, I have this specially flown in from Italy!”

Steve watched as Hammond shovelled a generous helping of ice cream into a bowl and waited impatiently for him to finish, frustration beginning to well up inside him. At last, Hammond cleaned his plate and daintily wiped his mouth on a silk handkerchief.

“Now, down to business. You must be wondering why I sent for you.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to cut Hammond off.

“You’re damn right I am!” He growled, getting to his feet. “You leave me… Hell, completely abandon me for two entire years and then expect me to come running back when you snap your fingers! I had nothing after Jurassic Park! Absolutely nothing! No money, no job, nowhere to stay, even my dad…” Steve couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence.

Hammond raised a hand for silence. “Steven, you have to understand the position I was in following the failure of the Jurassic Park enterprise. It was hard enough for me to keep InGen from closing down altogether without having to pay off every single member of my workforce. Even so, I am sorry to say we had to decrease our operations by a third and many of our workers faced redundancy. What’s more, your contract clearly stated…”

“To hell with my contract!” Steve exploded, the anger of the past two years rising uncontrollably to the surface. “You had a duty, not just to me, but to everyone who worked on that damn island, and you failed, backed out, hell, chickened out of it! You left me to rot, Hammond!”

Hammond was about to remind Steve to call him John, but thought better of it, instead electing to attempt to appease his ex-employee’s anger. The old man struggled to compose a sentence to this end, but Steve beat him to it.

“Look, just tell me what you want me to do, give me the money and then I can get out of here.” Steve said quietly, sinking back down into his chair. The rant hadn’t been as satisfying as he had been envisaging.

Hammond spoke. “Well… You see… Things are not quite that simple.”

“What do you mean, not simple?” Steve was exasperated more than anything else.

_This had better not have been a bloody wild goose chase._

“You wrote to me asking for advice in return for lots of money and fully paid up travel. That sounds pretty damn simple to me.” Steve said coldly.

Hammond held up both hands. “You’re right, of course. That was the deal, and I’ll see to it that you receive the agreed sum. All I ask is you let me explain something to you first.”

Steve sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I’m all ears.”

“Fine, fine.” Hammond murmured, standing up and crossing to the window, his body silhouetted in the evening light that filtered into the room. He composed himself, and then began to speak.

“Tell me, Steven, do you remember exactly how we created the dinosaurs for Jurassic Park? By mixing Amphibian DNA with the material we extracted from prehistoric mosquitoes, preserved in amber?”

Steve nodded cautiously. As part of the introduction to their game warden duties, Steve and Bob had been taken on the semi-complete laboratory tour.

Hammond continued. “Well, a few weeks ago, I received a letter. It was signed by a gentleman who referred to himself as ‘El Pero Sucio’. Now, this translates as ‘The Dirty But’, but my people inform me that it is probably a misspelling and was supposed to read ‘The Dirty Dog’. Furthermore, we suspect this might be an alias.”

Steve rolled his eyes and cut in. “Can we get to the point?”

Hammond frowned, but carried on. “Fine, fine. Well, this ‘Dirty Dog’ individual was interested in purchasing a number of DNA patterns; advanced versions of those we used to create the Jurassic Park exhibits.”

Steve winced at the use of the word ‘exhibits’, but allowed the old man to continue.

“He offered both myself and InGen large sums of money in return for the special patterns and demonstrated an impressive knowledge of our research; worryingly enough, research that we have never knowingly published. Of course, we could never accept such an offer without potentially jeopardizing national security, so naturally we turned it down out of hand.”

_That’s never seemed to bother him before._

“I don’t see the problem here?” Steve said, more than a little confused as to why he was being told this.

“There was no problem. At least, not until last week, when we received this…” The old man went back to his desk and dug around in a heap of papers, finally fishing out a crisp white page with a few lines of indecipherable text written upon it. Hammond passed it to Steve, who took a closer look and realized the writing was in Spanish.

Steve looked up. “You know very well I don’t speak this.”

Hammond leant over and looked at the sheet. “Damn, wrong one… Now where’s that translation got to…”

He began hunting around on his desk again but gave up a moment later.

“Look, the gist of it was something like this… ‘If you continue to refuse to sell us the goods, we will be forced to take persuasive measures. These actions will be ruthless and without mercy. If you continue to resist, we regret that harm and woe will darken upon your door.’”

Steve snorted in derision. “Who the hell does this guy think he is, ‘harm and woe will darken upon your door’, absolute tosser. Why are you even taking this seriously?”

Hammond’s face was grave. “Because I found this message on my private computer. I am the only one who has access to the passwords and it is not connected to a network, meaning the message could not have been placed there remotely.”

Steve frowned. “So you’re the only one who could have left it there, and I’m guessing you didn’t… So who else could it be?”

“There are very few people who even know of my machine’s existence, as it accommodates my most private project files. It could only have been one of my most trusted aides.” Hammond replied.

“An inside job, then.” Steve asserted.

“By all accounts, it looks that way.” Said Hammond. “Anyway, despite this, I still turned down two further offers from ‘The Dirty Dog’ to buy my patterns, believing my private security firm would keep myself and my corporation safe. Ah, how foolish I was!” Hammond stood up and began pacing up and down in front of the window again.

“What do you mean? You’re still here, alive and kicking.” Steve said.

“I may well be.” Replied Hammond quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But they’ve taken my grandchildren.”

Steve was silent for a moment, stunned.

_He’s got to be winding me up. But surely he wouldn’t joke about losing those kids, not after nearly getting them killed once already?_

Hammond continued, perhaps sensing Steve’s disbelief. “I idiotically supposed that ‘Dirty Dog’ meant all the harm and woe would darken upon my actual door rather than my proverbial one; regrettably, not the first stupid mistake I have made in the past decade.”

The old man’s voice broke and he had to compose himself for a moment.

“Two days ago, Alexis and Timothy were picked up from outside their school by three men, apparently identifying themselves as InGen employees sent by me. One hour later, I received another message, this time through my drawing room window. This time it was not a polite request, or even a threat. It was a ransom demand. This ‘Dirty Dog’ fellow and his associates want the six complete DNA sample patterns delivered to them in one week, at a certain spot in the Cabo Blanco Nature Reserve, Costa Rica. They say I must make the exchange in person if I ever want to see the kids alive again…”

Hammond broke down.

Steve was slumped in his chair, hands on head. “My God, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Have you gone to the police?”

Hammond shook his head. “No, I can’t go to them… They threatened to hurt my grandchildren if I informed the authorities of the ransom, and I simply cannot allow even the slightest chance of that.”

“But how are they going to know? The bloke can’t even spell his own alias!” Steve asked.

“Steven, think. I found one of the messages on my personal computer. They must have turned someone extremely close to me. They will find out.”

Steve exhaled deeply. “Then it looks like your only option is to turn up with those samples. Which brings me back to the question… Why am I here?”

Hammond sighed. It looked as if he was carrying the weight of the world upon his shoulders, even more so that usual.

“Unfortunately, there’s a problem. I don’t actually have the samples in my possession...”

Steve was incredulous. “And you didn’t think to tell them that?!”

Hammond’s reply was sheepish. “First rule of business, give out only the bare minimum of information…”

“Unbelievable.” Steve shook his head in disbelief. “Is there any way of telling them now?”

Hammond shook his head again. “They left no means to contact them, and even so, there would be no guarantee they would return Alexis and Timothy unharmed.”

Steve had run out of ideas. “Well, this is terrible and all, but I still don’t see why you asked me to come all the way out here… I’m not much of an Agony Aunt.”

“An Agony Aunt, no… But a Jurassic Park warden, yes.” Hammond replied quietly.

“And just what do you mean by that?” Asked Steve.

Hammond gave Steve a funny look, but the ex-warden could only gaze back blankly – until the penny dropped.

“Oh God, no! No, no, no! NO! I will NOT go back to that hellhole! No, never! Not even for that! I can’t! I’m sorry, but no!”

Still muttering negatives, Steve got up to leave, thoroughly shaken and in the grip of an irresistible urge to vacate the study and get as far away from the problems of Mr John Hammond as was humanly possible.

As Steve was about to open the door, a soft voice reached his ears. “Look, Steven, I’m… Sorry about your father. He was a good man. A great man, at that.”

Steve stopped, his hand on the door handle, and nodded slightly, fighting back tears at the mention of his late father.

“I’m sorry I asked you to go back there. It’s just… The children. I couldn’t bear to lose them again. You know how it feels, Steven. You’ve lost someone you love, and it hurts... It hurts so much. I wouldn’t ask someone so young, but what choice do I have… Please Steven, I know you must loathe me from the bottom of your heart, but I beg you to at least try and understand…Please, for an old man. If not for me, for them. For the children. Please. Please. Please...” Hammond repeated the last word, getting quieter and quieter. Steve turned and saw the old man slumped down at his desk, head bowed, sobbing softly.

It was this sight that finished off the already weakened resolve of Steven Muldoon. Somewhere, deep inside, Steve had been yearning to return to the Isla Nublar, to extract his revenge from the bastard Velociraptors and avenge his fallen father, or at least die trying. Now, that dormant part of him was well and truly awake.

“A long time ago...” Steve began, his voice quiet. “I saved a little girl from being eaten by a lion. When I took her home, the villagers said I was a hero, but I was never that.”

He stepped away from the door and made his way back towards the desk.

“I was born to do one thing, and one thing only. From that day forward, those villagers spoke of me as the _Simba Wawindaji_ ; it means ‘Lion Hunter’ in Swahili. You see, that is what I do. I hunt. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

Steve sat down. Hammond rasied his head slightly and locked eyes with the younger man.

“Just as long as it’s clear that I’m not doing this for you – I’m doing this for Lex, for Tim, and for that little girl all those years ago. Maybe it’s time for me to become the _Mjusi Wawindaji_ ; the Lizard Hunter.”

Hammond smiled slightly. “Your father would be very proud.”

“No, he wouldn’t.” Replied Steve. “He’d give me a week’s late night feeding duty.”


	3. Briefing

Hammond led the way down the corridor with Steve in tow. The old man had perked up immediately upon the warden agreeing to go on the expedition and was striding down the corridor with the air of a man half his age. In fact, Steve was beginning to suspect the tears had been something of an act, at least partially concocted by a man used to getting his own way. However, this didn’t change the fact that his grandchildren were in mortal danger, so perhaps for once Hammond’s methods were justifiable.

“What’s the plan?” Steve asked, struggling to keep up with Hammond.

“First things first. We are going to meet your team.” Hammond replied, without breaking stride.

“My team?” Steve repeated.

“Yes, your team. Being the fine young gentleman you are, I predicted that you wouldn’t turn an old man down in his hour of need and took the liberty of preparing a crack retrieval squad prior to your arrival. They are to accompany you to the island and will be entirely under your command; you can trust them absolutely.”

_He had it all planned. Once again, I’m just a pawn in his little game._

Hammond prattled on despite Steve’s darkening facial expression.

“Now, your equipment has already been sent to Costa Rica and is waiting for you there – I think you will find it most satisfactory. As soon as you and your team are fully briefed, I have a car standing by to take you to the airport. There you can hop on my private jet to Juan Santamaría International and you should arrive in a few hours. See, everything is under control! Trust me, this will be just like a walk in the park.”

_Yeah, right. A walk in Jurassic Park._

Hammond stopped as they reached another grand doorway, this time with the words ‘Drawing Room’ stencilled upon the door.

“Ready?” Hammond asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” Steve replied. Hammond pushed open the door and strode inside.

“Gentlemen.” Hammond addressed the occupants of the room. There were five men in various positions around the room, one reading a magazine, one with his eyes shut and boots on the coffee table, two deep in conversation and one looking out of the window. Those that were seated got to their feet as Hammond entered, the man by the window instinctively snapping to attention at the presence of a superior. The door closed with a barely audible *click* as Hammond spoke again.

“Gentlemen, I should like to introduce you to Master Steven Muldoon. He has gallantly agreed to lead our motley crew.” The old man addressed the room. Two of the men let out a ragged, if not a little sarcastic, cheer and made their way over.

“Welcome to the party!” Grinned one, a short, stocky fellow in his late twenties with deep blue eyes and a blond buzz cut.

“Glad you could make it, Steve!” Steve was incredulous as he recognised the second man as Deputy Warden Mike ‘Eddy’ Edwards, an old colleague from Jurassic Park. Tall, wiry and in his early thirties, Eddy was a veteran of the South American wildlife park scene and, crucially, had been one of the Velociraptor keepers on the Isla Nublar.

“Eddy?! It’s great to see you!” The two shook hands and embraced warmly.

“And you, my man! What’s it been, two years? I’ve been trying to look you up but couldn’t find nothing!” Eddy replied in his soft Texan drawl. The two had last spoken before the ferry took Eddy off the island on the eve of the storm that ended up costing Bob Muldoon his life.

“Yeah, I’ve been in London for a while.” The loneliness of the past months and years hit Steve, as it generally did several times a day. Trying not to let it show, he changed the subject swiftly. “But we can catch up later. Seems to me like we’ve got a job to do.”

Eddy nodded in agreement. “That we have.”

The Texan turned to the man with the buzz cut beside him. “This here is Lance Corporal Jonathan Walker, aka Doc Johnny. He’s gonna be our medic on this ‘lil jaunt. Reckon you two’ll get along just fine, he’s a limey too.”

Johnny stuck out a hand, which Steve shook. “Good to meet you, skipper.” He spoke in a strong South London accent.

“Likewise, Johnny. What brings you to this part of the world?” Steve asked.

“Did six years and two tours in ‘er Maj’s Royal Marines, then got crocked in a training exercise and wound up kicked out – ended up ‘ere in sunny D.C., working for Mr Hammond’s private security detail. ‘Ave a coupla kids myself back ‘ome, so when the boss’s two went AWOL I volunteered straight up. Decent excuse to get a tan, if nuffink else.” Johnny explained cheerfully, his toothy grin widening.

“Fair enough. Take my advice and make sure you bring plenty of bandages.” Steve advised dryly.

“Bangin’. I just ‘ope you ain’t got no problem with needles!” Johnny replied, his grin somehow growing even larger.

“Bigger the better. Speaking of which….”

Standing to the right of Johnny was a man that could very easily have been mistaken for a small mountain, or at least a reasonable-sized hillock. He was simply vast, both in height and in width; toned muscles bulged from beneath his tight black t-shirt and his shaved head gleamed in the evening sunlight that filtered through the window. He was heavily tanned, possibly of Latin American origin, and wore combat trousers with heavy boots. On the whole, the image was of a man not to be messed with.

“This ‘ere, is Roddy.” Johnny introduced his large companion.

‘Roddy’ raised a spade-like right hand and touched his brow respectfully.

“Buenas tardes.” He said, his voice husky. “How are you, señor?”

The transition between languages was grating and a thick Spanish accent remained.

“Fine, thanks.” Steve replied by reflex, still slightly stunned by the sheer presence of the man. Hammond, who had been watching the greetings from a short distance, stepped in.

“Mr Rodriguez will be an invaluable asset to your team. Not only am I assured that he is an accomplished weapons expert, but he is also an excellent mechanic and, as you may have noticed, a native of the area in question.

_He does look a tad like a Brachiosaurus…_

As if he had been waiting for his cue, Rodriguez stuck out a massive hand to be shaken. After a moment’s hesitation, Steve took it, and was pleasantly surprised to find the giant’s grip not the mangle he had been expecting.

Rodriguez had noticed Steve tensing his arm and lowered his head down to the warden’s level, smiling conspiratorially.

“You need not worry señor, I have good reason not to crush your hands. In case you need both of them to pay me!”

He let out a short, throaty laugh and stood up straight. Johnny struggled to keep a straight face as Steve looked at Hammond enquiringly, who sighed.

“Mr Rodriguez describes himself as a private enforcement contractor – he is quite possibly the best in the business.”

“So, he’s a mercenary.” Steve replied cynically, scarcely able to believe his ears.

“’Mercenary’ is a strong word...” Hammond began, before Steve cut him off with a mumbled, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Look, I’m sure Mr Rodriguez would have something to say about you doubting his integrity.” Hammond finished, casting a hopeful glance at the big Costa Rican.

Apparently, Mr Rodriguez had nothing to say, as he simply shrugged and made off in the general direction of the bathroom. Instead, it was Johnny who spoke. “Roddy’s alright, mate. You can trust ‘im.”

Steve shook his head distastefully. “You do realise all he does is kill for money, right?”

Hammond cut in. “At least let me explain that his services have already been fully paid for, and that there’s a sizeable bonus awaiting him on successful retrieval of the samples. He stands to lose as much as you do on that island, regardless of his reasons for being there.”

Steve raised his hands in conciliation. “Look, whatever. Who’s next?”

“Why, that would be Mr Miller.” Hammond beamed and led Steve to the man staring out the window, his steel grey eyes sweeping the outside landscape. As they approached, Miller turned and regarded them both, his face expressionless. He was tall, thin and middle-aged, his hair cut short in a military fashion similar to Johnny’s.

“Mr Miller, I should like you to meet Steven, the lad I told you about. He is… was… the son of the head warden on the island.”

“Steve.” Steve said amicably and offered his hand to be shaken. Miller ignored it, instead sweeping his eyes critically up and down Steve, his face cold and calculating. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a temperature similar to his expression.

“At your service, sir.” He touched his forehead in a quasi-military salute, the action all but mocking.

“Mr Miller formally served as a Sergeant in the US Army.” Hammond addressed Steve, a hint of pride in his voice. “Now, he acts as my personal bodyguard. You can trust him absolutely.”

“He doesn’t appear to have done a very good job.” Steve replied irritably.

“Seems to me like I did my job too well.” Miller stepped forward aggressively, all but squaring up to Steve. “Do you have a problem with my credentials, sir?” He spat the words like a rotten apple.

“Now now, boys, I do hope we are not going to have a problem here?” Hammond hovered behind them nervously.

There was silence for a moment as the two faced off, but then Steve turned away.

“No, no problem. Mr Miller and I will get along just fine.”

“I’m relieved to hear it!” Hammond chirruped, before guiding Steve over to the last member of the team; a slim gentleman sitting on one of the room’s many couches, reading a magazine. Steve guessed him to be in his mid 40s.

“Steven, this is Mr Smith – deputy head of Project Charisma. His DNA samples are the ones you will be looking for.” Hammond explained.

Steve inspected the scientist, taking in his pale complexion and eyes that flickered constantly about the room. He couldn’t remember ever having seen the man before, which seemed odd considering he was on first name terms with almost everyone who used to work on the Isla Nublar. Sure, there had been Smiths aplenty, but almost certainly not this fellow. What’s more, Steve was fairly sure he had never heard of anything named ‘Project Charisma’.

_Strange… Must be a lab reference name. Could be something to do with the Pteranodon hatchery perhaps? Those little critters were pretty damn charismatic…_

Steve was about to enquire as to the nature of the DNA but was prevented from doing so by Hammond who, as he often liked to do, took on the role of schoolteacher.

The old man clapped his hands twice. “Well, now you’ve all met Steven, would you kindly take your seats – the show is about to begin.”

Hammond moved towards a desk at one end of the room while the team sat down in the chairs arranged in front. As Rodriguez reappeared from the bathroom, Eddy took a seat beside Steve and whispered urgently into his ear.

“When’s your Dad comin’ in, Steve? Is he already in Costa Rica? ‘Cos me and him are gonna need to talk.”

Steve looked at Eddy sharply. “You what?”

Eddy stared back blankly. “You what, what?”

“You mean he hasn’t told you?” Steve asked, stunned.

“Goddamit Steve, told me what?” Eddy asked impatiently.

“My Dad. He’s dead. He never made it off the island.” Steve said, struggling to keep his voice even.

It was Eddy’s turn to look back sharply, not quite believing his ears.

“Come again?” He asked, his tone incredulous.

“He’s dead.” Steve repeated simply. “That island’s a bad, bad place.”

“Bob…” Eddy murmured. The two had become good friends during their time at Jurassic Park, and could often be found sharing a tale over a bottle of Old Scotch whiskey.

“Look, Eddy.” Steve began, somewhat shakily. “I don’t know what else Hammond hasn’t told you, but I saw things there. Stuff happened. I only just made it out alive, me and a few others.” Steve rolled up his sleeve and showed Eddy the scars from his showdown with the Raptors in the control room. The older man shuddered.

“Man… I’m so sorry… I mean, I had no idea… Bob, dead? Can’t believe it. Of course, I wondered why he never wrote after the island shut down, but I never expected… My god... How did it happen?” Eddy was struggling to establish a coherent sentence.

Steve could only shrug. “I don’t know.” He said simply. “I found his hat and gun outside the power shed in a pool of blood...There was a Raptor there, too. One of the hunters. A young female, I think. It attacked me, but I killed it.”

“Woah, woah, woah… Back up. You’re telling me the Raptors got out?!” Eddy’s voice had risen a good octave.

Steve ignored the question. “I can’t tell you how big a mistake this mission is… But there are two kids’ lives at stake here, and what’s done is done. Now, I’ll do my best to fill you in on what we’re likely to find, but it’s still gonna be a damn site more dangerous than you... Hell, all of you, thought, not least because it’s been two years since anyone set foot on that island… We have no idea what’s happened in that time, what’s died, what’s evolved…” At that point the lights went down and Hammond began talking, making further conversation impossible.

“First of all, I’d like to thank you all for attending at such short notice.” The old man began, picking up a wooden pointer and flicking a switch on his desk. Behind him, a wall panel slid back and a screen flickered into life, displaying a detailed map of the island and surrounding ocean.

“As you know, you have been brought together with the purpose of retrieving a certain artefact from the laboratories attached to the old Jurassic Park complex. However, as you may be aware, the Costa Rican government seized control of the Isla Nublar following the… *ahem*… Events of two years ago. Now, Costa Rica does not maintain a military force as such, but it does operate a small commando-style unit, known as the UEI. I have intelligence to suggest that this group has been deployed to protect the island from any outside influence; until such time that the government decides what to do with it. For this reason, I have planned an insertion that minimises the risk of your detection.”

Johnny raised his hand. “So the locals ‘ave boots on the island?” He asked.

“Not so far as we know.” Replied Hammond. “The island itself is considered a no-go area and the few patrol ships the mainland can spare will be on station a fair way offshore. We believe they would only enter the immediate vicinity in order to chase away unwanted visitors.”

“So just us and an ‘andful of dinos!” Said Johnny. “Gotta love it.”

“As I was saying.” Hammond continued. “The insertion method I have devised revolves around the radar capability of the ships. You see, the UEI’s system is such that, while it can detect surface vessels within a fifteen nautical mile radius of the island, it can only detect aircraft within ten miles.”

“I don’t get it.” Eddy spoke up. “Which ever way we go in, we’ll still have to get past the final ten miles.”

Hammond shook his head and smiled. “My dear Mr Edwards, this is indeed the clever part. One of the reasons I initially chose the island as the location for Jurassic Park was its impregnability – it is surrounded on all sides by a series of reefs, with only a few paths through. Now, Costa Rican radar equipment is, at best, antiquated, so I am of the belief that these reefs should provide adequate interference to allow you to pass undetected in a dinghy, or some similar small vessel. Therefore, I have arranged for the charter aircraft to be of amphibian variety, meaning that you can simply put down on the sea just outside the reefs, unload into a dinghy, and then travel the rest of the way by surface.”

“And just how far do those reefs come out?” Inquired Eddy sceptically.

Hammond paused for a moment. “Seven miles.”

There was a collective groan.

Irritated by the team’s lack of respect for his painstakingly considered plan, Hammond continued loudly. “The pilot will fly low and fast for those three miles while also transmitting static over the radio. This will create the illusion that the plane is in trouble and buy you enough time to launch an inflatable dinghy. The pilot will then take off and fly back the way he came, having only been off-radar for a few moments – the Costa Ricans will have no way of knowing that its passengers have been disgorged into the middle of the ocean. Even if they do dispatch an aircraft and come looking, they will find it very hard to spot a small dinghy in the middle of the night.”

“Why does everyfing ‘ave to be at bloody night…” Johnny grumbled at the last sentence.

“The man’s right, Hammond.” Eddy said loudly. “The Doc here wants his beauty sleep, and from where I’m sitting, he needs it.”

There were several barely suppressed chuckles. Hammond snapped.

“May I remind you why we are all gathered here today? My grandchildren have been abducted and are being held to ransom. And, in case you have forgotten, my only chance of seeing them alive again is located on this island! Now, are there any more stupid comments or can I continue?”

“Just one.” It was Steve who spoke. “How do we get off the island? I doubt the natives will fall for this twice.”

“Right. Yes. Of course.” Amidst the guilty silence, Hammond seemed a little surprised at the quality of the query. “Good question.”

The old man crossed to his desk a picked up his flip-top calendar.

“I did initially consider sending you with a radio transmitter, but the transmissions could be traced and your presence detected – when one considers the strict laws regarding trespassing on that island, that would be a most undesirable occurrence. Instead, I have made arrangements for you to be picked up by a friend of mine who works for the Costa Rican government. The gentleman is employed to make routine survey flights of the island by helicopter and is due one in the next few weeks, so I simply offered him a large quantity of money to make his trip a little earlier, with an unscheduled stop-off.” Hammond outlined his plan. Steven couldn’t help being slightly impressed.

_This sounds like it actually might work. If we manage to survive, that is…_

Hammond took a sip from a glass of water on his desk and continued. “Now, today is the 9th, and by the time you arrive on the island it will be the 11th. I have arranged for the helicopter pilot to arrive at precisely midday on the 12th, allowing you twenty-four hours to locate and retrieve the samples. The handover is scheduled for eight in the morning the following day so it’s going to be tight, but that’s as long as I dare leave it.

_Damn tight._

“You will be dropped into the ocean here…” Hammond indicated a spot on the map behind him. “…And you should aim to reach this beach by daybreak.” He pointed to another spot on the coastline. The screen changed to show a close-up of the island.

“Upon landing, you should drag the dinghy into the trees and make your way onto service road C7 – Steven, Mr Edwards, you know the way. When you arrive, continue north for slightly less than three miles, at which point you will reach the intersection with F5. Then, you will need leave the road and head towards the Gallimimus paddock.”

Steve shuddered at the mention of the latter, knowing it would be the Tyrannosaur’s favoured hunting ground.

_Item 176 on today’s ‘things that could go wrong’ list._

“Cross the paddock and proceed precisely one hundred and fifty-six yards into the trees. You then will see a rock face with a door cut into it.” Hammond continued. “That is the entrance to the Project Charisma laboratory where the DNA is contained in the form of frozen embryos, much like the park specimens. The vials you are after are in one of the freezers and will be similar to this.” The picture on the screen changed again, this time to show a sleek, black cylinder with the words ‘Warning! Keep below –20 degrees’ stencilled across it. Somehow, Steve was not surprised at these developments.

_So I was right… These samples aren’t the same as the park dinosaurs. There’s even a separate laboratory… Never had any idea that was there._

Steve had never heard of the building’s existence, let alone its location.

_Probably why I never met this Smith bloke._

“There will be a number of refrigeration rucksacks contained within the laboratory – Mr Smith knows where they are. Providing they are fully charged, they will last around fifteen hours, allowing plenty of time to bring them to me.” Hammond finished.

“Seems like you’ve thought of everything.” Eddy remarked.

Hammond, delighted someone had finally acknowledged his self-proclaimed brilliance, nodded in appreciation. “As a matter of fact, I have.” He beamed.

“Well then, I think that will be all. My aeroplane will be fully fuelled in… Let’s see…” He checked his watch. “Around forty-five minutes. Until then, please make yourselves at home. I’ll be in my Study.” He made to leave. Steve got up and stopped him.

“Listen, about these bastards that took Lex and Tim… What if they’re lying? What if they don’t bring them to the handover?” He asked.

Hammond shook his head. “They have to. They’ve got to.” He murmured, brushing past Steve and out of the room.

“For their sake, I hope so.” Eddy muttered darkly.

“Yeah. Me too.” Steve agreed. “Okay, I’m going to have a wash – won’t be much time for that once we get there by the sound of things.”

“Sounds good.” Eddy replied. “Catch ya later.”


	4. Meet the Murphys

Steve was in the bathroom for a good quarter of an hour, the time spent mainly staring into the mirror and splashing his face with water periodically while the situation sank in. There could be no slip-ups in this operation, that was for certain. One wrong decision and his entire team could be eaten alive by the inhabitants of Jurassic Park. If that were not burden enough, Lex and Tim’s lives depended on the quick recovery of the samples. In short, Steve was once again in a position to play the hero.

_Heroism. I know where heroism gets you._

He thought back over the past two years. The boredom, the isolation, the solitude. That was not Steve. And as much as he would like to deny it, this mission was as close as he’d got to having a purpose in a long time. He was a hunter, a tracker, a survivalist – he was a Muldoon. And this was what Muldoons did. He was going to get those samples. He was going to save those kids. If necessary, he was going to die trying.

_Better that than the rest of my life spent picking up empty crisp packets._

Steve left the bathroom and made his way across the corridor to the briefing room. Then, he stopped and listened. He could hear voices drifting down the corridor. Raised voices, at that. Angry voices.

Steve, perhaps unsurprisingly, couldn’t help himself. He turned and made his way back down the corridor towards the sound of shouting, realising as he went that he was heading back to Hammond’s office. He reached the door and stood furtively outside.

“What do you mean, some kid?” A male voice Steve did not recognise bellowed from somewhere inside the room.

“It’s like I said!” Those dulcet tones belonged to Mr Miller. “You said you were gonna get the old chief warden to lead the team!”

“That is not simply ‘some kid,’ he is a Muldoon. And, on the contrary, I informed you that I would recruit the most highly qualified person available – i.e. not deceased.” Hammond’s voice remained quiet and measured. Despite everything, Steve was slightly flattered to hear the old man standing up for him.

“Exactly!” Miller yelled. “That’s Muldoon’s SON, not the ACTUAL Muldoon! The game warden! I told you this was crazy from the moment…” He was abruptly cut off by what sounded like someone stamping their foot.

“John, this is my children we’re talking about!” The voice belonging to Jim began. “You’re about to send this crackpot team off on some hare-brained expedition on the off chance they can get whatever it is the guys that have our kids are after? I told you we should have called the police the moment they went missing!”

“Jim, think about what you’re saying!” A female voice cut in. “You know my dad found those messages on his private computer. If we contact the authorities, who knows what they’ll do to Alexis and Timmy.”

“Bullshit, Alison!” Jim shouted. “You still believe a word this man says after all that’s happened? After they went to his goddamn island? Were nearly eaten? Electrocuted? And now this?! How the hell you got custody, I’ll never know…”

“Enough!” Thundered Hammond. “Mr Miller, you WILL go on this expedition and Steven WILL lead it! Unless, of course, you would prefer to hand in your notice?”

There was the sound of breaking glass from uncomfortably close by. Steve jumped back as the door swung open and a well-built man with dark hair came out, looking sharply at Steve standing awkwardly in the hallway.

There was silence as the two regarded each other coldly. At last, Jim spoke.

“You’d better be as good as he says you are.” He turned on his heel and stormed off down the corridor.

A bubble of anger rose up inside Steve. “I bloody well did alright last time!” He shouted after him.

Jim stopped dead. “What did you say?”

“If it wasn’t for me, your kids would still be on that island.” Steve replied evenly. “Inside the stomach of a Tyrannosaurus Rex.”

Jim span round and began to march back down the hall towards Steve, seething.

“You better watch your mouth.”

“Or what?”

Fists went up and they were only saved from coming to blows by the emergence of Alison from Hammond’s study.

“Jim, please!” She went to restrain her ex-husband. He froze as she touched him and looked her square in the eye before speaking.

“Fine, then. You’re gonna put our kids’ lives in this boy’s hands. In that fat old man’s hands. In… The immigrant’s hands. It’s on your head! On your head be it!” Jim pulled away and stamped off back down the corridor, muttering obscenities as he went.

Steve breathed deeply, a little disappointed with himself. In days gone by, he would never have risen to baiting such as that, let alone with such a hostile response. Mentally, he decided to put it down to tiredness.

_After all, they’re his kids that’re missing. He’s even more stressed than I am._

“Steven?” Alison spoke gently. Steve could see the family resemblance to both Tim and Lex – the deep brown eyes and blonde hair not the least of it.

“Mrs Murphy?” Replied Steven.

“It’s… Ms Hammond now…” She explained, a hint of sadness in her voice. “Listen, about the children…” She trailed off.

“Ms Hammond, I promise I will do everything in my power to find the samples and get Lex and Tim back. They’re great kids… They don’t deserve this.”

Alison managed a small smile. “I’m sure you will, honey. Timothy told me all about what you did at my Dad’s park. Jim has no right to doubt you.”

Nobody had ever called Steve ‘honey’ before – at least, not that he could remember. It felt quite nice.

“Ms Hammond… Alison… This is personal for me. When I first met your son, he said I was ‘awesome’ – it looks like now is the time to prove it.” Steve looked up as Miller left the office and stood stiffly at Steve’s shoulder. “Duty calls.”

“Good luck, Steven. Jim and I are counting on you.” She turned and headed after her ex-husband.

Miller began to make his way back to the briefing room, closely followed by Steve. The silence was so uncomfortable that the younger man felt compelled to speak.

“Look, Miller… If it’s really bothering you, I don’t mind you taking over command of the expedition. To be completely honest, I haven’t the faintest idea of how this sort of job is done, anyhow. That way, I can do my thing and you can do yours. What do you say?” Steve was back to his old diplomatic self.

“Mr Hammond’s orders. We do as we are told.” Miller replied blandly.

_Yep, he’s still sore._

“You sure?” Steve persisted.

“Mr Hammond’s orders.” Miller reiterated robotically.

“Okay, okay. Just let me know if you change your mind.”

Somewhere in the depths of the house, a clock chimed the hour.

_Time to rock and roll._


	5. The JP-Day Landings

The de Havilland DHC-3 Otter powered through the night sky, its Pratt & Whitney radial engine emitting a comforting growl. In the passenger compartment, Steve gazed at the endless ocean below them, his thoughts on the perilous task that lay ahead. He was jerked back into the real world by Johnny tapping him on the shoulder and pointing at Eddy, who was sitting opposite them and, inexplicably, fast asleep.

“’Ow does he do that?” Johnny said wistfully.

“He’s either gifted, or a lazy bastard.” Steve replied with a grin. As he spoke, the engine note changed, becoming a whine several octaves higher.

“Reckon we must be nearly there.” Steve leaned over to look out of the window. Sure enough, they were beginning to lose height.

“I’d better warm up the jammer.” Johnny unbuckled his harness. Ill-advisedly, he stood up quickly and banged his head on the ceiling.

“Ow! Bloody stupid time of day…” Disgruntled mutterings drifted from the rear of the cabin as he set about operating the powerful radio transmitter situated in the tail section. As per Hammond’s plan, it was connected to a small cassette player, designed to transmit static and intermittent communication from the aircraft.

“Wakey-wakey!” Another voice wafted down the cabin – it belonged to Rodriguez, who had squeezed his massive frame into the co-pilot’s seat so he could talk to the Costa Rican pilot in his native tongue. Eddy awoke with a start.

“He says we nearly there, señors!” Rodriguez boomed again.

There was silence for a moment before the big man spoke again. “Okay, we in radar range!”

“Jammer is a go.” Johnny called over the ever-increasing whine of the engine as the transmitter began to spit out audible bursts of static. “Let’s ‘ope this bloody works.”

Right on cue, the radio in the cockpit crackled into life, the heavily accented voice at the other end clearly struggling to wrap their tongue around the English words. “Unidentified aircraft, this is Costa Rica radar control. You are entering restricted airspace. Please leave the area immediately.

The radio at the back of the cabin replied immediately, its transmissions intercut with bursts of static. “Come… Position… St… Hel… We are n… Low… Bravo Foxtrot… Eight.”

There was a moment of silence, long enough for Rodriguez to report “One mile gone,” before the radar control replied. “We repeat. You are entering restricted airspace. Leave the area immediately.”

“Nee… Two Zero Niner… Engine… Ty… Depart… Now.” The jammer continued broadcasting.

“These two could go on all night.” Steve remarked.

“Two miles gone, señors.” Rodriguez added.

“Unidentified aircraft, this is your final warning. Leave the area immediately.” The Costa Ricans were obviously getting fed up.

“Bugger!” Johnny swore. “The jammer’s packed up!”

“Get it working again, Walker!” Miller shouted from his position at the front of the compartment.

“There’s nothing I can do… The batteries are dead! It’s out of juice!” Johnny yelled back.

“Bollocks! How we doing, Roddy?” Steve asked, his voice taut.

“Only one mile left, señors. We can make it!” Rodriguez bellowed from the cockpit, partially deafening the pilot in the process.

“Unidentified aircraft, this is Costa Rica radar control. We have launched an interceptor airplane. Resistance is… Bad.”

The three in the rear of the plane almost fell out of their seats laughing.

“Better give ourselves up boys, we’ve been naughty!” Eddy said, giggling like a schoolgirl.

“I’m quaking in my boots.” Steve added dryly.

“’Aven’t been so scared since I went to the loo and realised there weren’t no paper after I’d crapped!” Unsurprisingly, the last comment belonged to Johnny.

Rodriguez looked back gravely from the cockpit. “This is no joking matter, señors. They will be here shortly.”

“Better get ‘er down, then!” Johnny reappeared from his berth in the rear of the plane and began removing kit from the overhead lockers.

“Hold on tight, señors!” The aircraft commenced a sickening descent. Johnny, completely unprepared for the suddenness of the dive, immediately lost his footing and disappeared rearwards with a strangled scream of protest followed by a muffled “oof” as the contents of the lockers landed on his head.

At the last moment, the pilot hauled the plane’s nose up and levelled out at what couldn’t have been more than ten feet above wave level.

“Three miles!” Rodriguez bellowed triumphantly, before murmuring something to the pilot, who nodded and slowed the aircraft down. Moments later, the Otter’s floats were gliding through the late-night brine. Johnny, mumbling something about the bloodiness of the pilot, plane and time of day, reappeared for a second time and began undoing the inflatable dinghy’s fastenings.

“Alright, let’s move out, people!” Steve reached under his seat for his equipment. This was made up of a pack containing rations, ammunition and a one-man bivy; his hunting belt, complete with knife; a combat vest with webbing; his favoured M1911 pistol with taclight; and Bob Muldoon’s hat. Setting the latter firmly on his head, he got to his feet and took a SPAS-12 pump shotgun from the locker above him, checking its waterproof covering.

Glancing around to check the others’ progress, Steve saw that Rodriguez had vacated the cockpit and was busy inflating the dinghy by means of a small electric pump. Eddy stood behind him wearing identical equipment to Steve save for the hat, also carrying a SPAS-12. Incidentally, the two ex-wardens were the only ones to have chosen the shotgun as their weapon, the others preferring the more militaristic M16A2 assault rifle. Other variations in equipment included Johnny’s highly prized first aid kit, Rodriguez’s second rifle strapped to his back, and his crimson bandanna, in place of the others’ helmets. Smith, although he carried the same equipment as the others, was completely unarmed and since landing in Costa Rica the previous night had apparently become joined at the hip to Miller.

“Ready!” Rodriguez finished with the dinghy. The rest of the team moved towards the hatch and jumped into the small boat; first Eddy, then Miller and Smith, then Johnny and finally Steve and Rodriguez. No sooner had the hatch closed than the pilot gunned the throttle and was off, the Otter swiftly disappearing into the darkness of the night.

“Boom.” Johnny said softly. “The fun begins.”

“We’re not out of the woods yet.” Steve replied. “Help me get this cover sorted.”

Hammond had, thankfully, had the foresight to provide a sea-camouflage net to drape over the boat in the event of a patrol aircraft passing overhead. This was fastened in place not a moment too soon, as the clatter of rotors began to drift on the breeze. The Costa Ricans had obviously sent a helicopter to investigate the strange communications from the phantom aircraft, but the sound soon faded and the dinghy passed undetected.

“Too easy.” Johnny commented.

“I just hope the welcoming committee on the island is this forgiving.” Steve murmured darkly.

There were two sets of paddles in the dinghy and the occupants took turns with these, propelling the small boat through the inky black water. Hammond had assured them that none of the infamous reefs protruded to a height where they might pose a problem for the shallow-bottomed dinghy, but rowing was still a nervous experience.

They headed steadily in the direction of the Isla Nublar and dawn broke as they sighted land, the ominous peaks of the island silhouetted against the rising sun.

“Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, it is a privilege for us here at InGen to present to you the future of entertainment… Below and to your right, Jurassic Park.” Steve quoted absently from the helicopter tour guidebook. It seemed like an age since he had read that particular pamphlet, and a lifetime ago since he helped to write it.

A short while later, the inflatable keel of the dinghy scraped the beach and the team clambered onto dry land, pulling the boat up into the tree line. Smith came last, covering up the drag marks to hide their presence from prying aerial eyes. By the time they had hidden the dinghy under a heap of branches, the sun had fully risen and they were bathed in warm, tropical sunlight. Steve stood on the sand and took a deep, appreciative sniff of the Isla Nublar air – _the island where every day is a new discovery_ , he ruefully remembered.

_It’s good to be home._

Eddy joined him. “Not bad, eh, Steve?”

“I’d forgotten how beautiful this place was. Must have been paradise before Hammond and his cronies got here.” Steve observed.

Johnny cleared his throat nervously as a bird sounded a plaintive alarm call. “Shall we get moving, skipper?”

Steve took one last look out over the beach and made his way to where the rest of the party were waiting.

“Okay, gents, lock and load. Anything moves, you shoot it first, ask if it’s a vegetarian later.”

This raised a few chuckles and prompted Rodriguez to cock his M16 gleefully.

“Lead the way, señor.”

Steve led the small party off the beach and down a narrow pathway into the jungle. He instinctively recognised it as the hunting track of a small creature, most likely no taller than waist high. Knowing that Eddy probably thought the same, Steve elected not to share this with the others and only stopped when they reached the promised road – a little overgrown, but traversable nonetheless.

“Bingo.” Steve remarked, not a little pleased that his tracking skills were still up to scratch.

Miller spoke up. “Mr Hammond said the crossroads are three miles to the north of here. Is this the road we need?”

Eddy nodded. “Yeah, this is the one. Just follow it that way and we’re there.”

“Then, sir, I suggest we get going.” Miller addressed Steve, his tone still distinguishably cold. “I have no desire to stay here for longer than is absolutely necessary.”

Steve, still feeling a tad pleased with himself, decided to let this pass. “Agreed, let’s move out. Keep your eyes open.”

As the team set off at a steady pace down the service road, Eddy fell into step alongside Steve. “Y’know what they say, right?”

Steve sighed, well aware that one of Eddy’s pearls of pessimistic wisdom was about to see the light of day. “No, but I suspect you’re about to tell me.”

“Damn right I am.” Eddy snorted. “If your plan is going well, it’s an ambush.”

“Then I hope this doesn’t end up going well,” Steve replied lightly.

Eddy considered for a moment. “Me too,” he said finally.


	6. Nasty Blockage

The march up the service road went without a hitch. In less than an hour, they reached the intersection with track F5. There had been a complete lack of contact with anything living on the journey so far; something Steve found both pleasing and disturbing at the same time. The only hint that they were not alone on the island came from the distant alarm calls of unseen birds – at least, Steve hoped they were birds. Perhaps his worries had been without foundation, he thought. He had most likely been the last person to set foot on the island over two years ago, so who knew what had occurred in the elapsed time.

_Maybe they just wiped each other out..._

The team stopped for a break upon reaching the crossroads and sat on the partially eroded tarmac, taking swigs from their canteens. The day was beginning to hot up considerably as the sun rose higher overhead.

“Okay, then.” Steve addressed his companions a few moments later. “Looks like this is where we go off-road.”

Eddy clambered to his feet. “Dunno about you, Steve, but I’ve never left the track here before.” He turned and surveyed his surroundings. “This used to be the Gally paddock, right enough.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully. “I have, once. With the Rex close behind me.”

The others shifted their feet uncomfortably at the mention of the predator.

“The fence should be a few hundred yards…” Steve consulted his compass and pointed. “That way.”

“I’m following you.” Eddy replied.

“Come on, let’s get this over with.”

The team made their way off the road and into the jungle, weapons at the ready, a thin curtain of steam rising as the sun evaporated the early morning dew. Soon the trees began to thin and suddenly they broke out into the sun – standing tall in front of them was the paddock fence.

“Long time since I’ve seen one of these babies.” Eddy shouldered his shotgun and jogged down the sharp slope to the hulking power lines. “Don’t suppose it could still be active?”

“Only one way to find out.” Steve picked up a stick and lobbed it at the wires. Nothing happened.

“Looks okay...” He murmured.

Eddy sighed and slowly moved closer to the fence, as if approaching a wild animal. He placed both hands upon a cable.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAA!” He screamed, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. A stream of British profanity issued from somewhere up the hill as Johnny rushed to his aid, closely followed by the others. Steve, however, was unimpressed.

“Been done.”

Eddy stopped vibrating and took his hands off the wire. He smiled wickedly in the direction of Johnny who, in his customary accident-prone fashion, had lost his footing and tumbled most of the way down the slope.

“I got him, anyway.” Eddy grinned.

Steve shook his head sadly. “You Yanks are all the same.”

“You’re a complete and utter wanker.” Johnny proclaimed loudly, staggering to his feet. Eddy nodded in agreement.

“So, are we gonna go under, or over?” Eddy asked Steve, who stood and pondered for a moment.

“We go straight through.” Rodriguez interrupted, stepping forwards and drawing a comically large machete from his pack. “Stand back, señors.”

They stood back. The Costa Rican took a huge swing at the bottom-most wire and the blade parted it with a metallic *twang*. Rodriguez did the same for the next three wires and soon there was a gap large enough to squeeze through.

“Told you ‘e’d come in ‘andy!” Johnny remarked when they were all safely through.

“Could have done with him a couple of years back.” Steve agreed.

The team began to make their way across the vast plane that served as the Gallimimus paddock. Halfway across Steve even recognised the log behind which they had sheltered, all that time ago. But still there was no sign of the park’s inmates.

No tracks, either. Not so much as a snapped twig. Oh well, I’m not complaining.

Something didn’t seem right. On every expedition Steve had ever been on, he had encountered some signs of life, however small. And, what’s more, the birds had stopped calling. The silence was eerie – deathly, even.

“I know my way from here.” Smith spoke up suddenly. Steve couldn’t remember when the scientist had last said anything, if he had spoken at all. “My laboratory is situated just behind those trees.” His accent was inconclusive, possibly of Japanese descent.

“Excellent. Lead on.” Steve replied.

Smith hesitantly moved to the front of the party, closely followed by Miller. Johnny and Rodriguez glanced at each other and unslung their weapons simultaneously, treading carefully as they followed Smith to the edge of the plane.

The trees were not thick and progress was fast. Within a matter of minutes they had reached the clump of trees Smith had indicated, but there was still no sign of the laboratory.

“I don’t get it.” Eddy growled. “You’re sure it’s this way?”

Smith ignored the Texan and plunged headfirst into the thicket, moving so swiftly that even Miller lost sight of him. Steve shared a bewildered glance with Eddy before following the scientist’s lead into the trees, pushing aside branches and ferns with the butt of his shotgun. Suddenly, they burst out of the trees and found themselves in a small clearing, surrounded on three sides by a smooth rock face. Smith was standing stock still, staring at one of the walls.

“Here.” The scientist muttered absently. “It was just here.”

He moved towards the rock and began poking around, apparently searching for something. Eddy shook his head sadly and was about to make a snide remark, when a loud thud shook the ground. Smith had vanished.

“Where the ‘ell did he go?” Johnny exclaimed.

“There, look…” Steve pointed. A large hole had opened in the side of the previously unblemished cliff, hidden behind a large overhang.

“Well I’ll be…” Eddy murmured. “How come we never knew about this?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Steve replied. “But it’s beginning to look like there’s a lot we didn’t know about this place.”

“You gonna stand there chatting all day?” Johnny set off in the direction of the cave mouth. Steve and Eddy hurried after him, closely followed by Rodriguez and, as usual, a completely impartial Miller.

The cave went back a long, long way. After several bends, the thin rays of sunlight from the outside world faded completely, meriting the use of the torches strapped to their vests.

“Where the hell has he go to?” Eddy growled in Steve’s ear. But before the younger man could reply, they rounded another bend and found Smith scrabbling furiously at a large pile of boulders. The scientist registered the presence of the others and turned, addressing no one in particular.

“There’s been a rock fall.” He explained, stating the obvious.

Steve pushed past the scientist and inspected the passageway. Sure enough, the way was blocked – part of the ceiling had caved in and one of the walls had partially collapsed. Steve shone his torch and looked closely at the lower left corner of the path. There was a small gap there – not big enough for a man, but it would just about fit a medium-sized dog.

_A medium-sized dog. Hmm._

Steve stepped back and addressed Rodriguez – the huge man was struggling with the cave roof, his bald head scraping painfully against the rocks.

“Mr Rodriguez, do you have anything for a nasty blockage?” Steve asked.

The big Costa Rican grinned. “I know just the thing, señor.” He squeezed past the others and stood in front of the collapsed area, fiddling with his XXL webbing. He detached a small, round object and rolled it under the gap in the blockage.

“Boom time.” He said happily, raising his right hand and extending five fingers. He counted down on these, carefully manoeuvring himself so that his large frame was braced against the passage walls in preparation for the blast. The others took refuge around the next bend, crouching and covering their ears. Steve suddenly had a feeling that Rodriguez was showing off.

_Probably thinks there’s a bonus in it for him._

The explosion, when it came, was a little disappointing – a muffled * _crump*_ was all the concussion grenade could muster. However, it did the job – the hole in the rock fall was now big enough for them to squeeze through. Rodriguez wasted no time and began cramming himself through while Steve and the others caught up. Smith made as if to follow, but Steve pulled him back.

“Not you.” Steve said, exerting his authority for the first time.

_Medium-sized dogs._

“We’ll handle this. You head back to the clearing and set up camp – we know what we’re looking for.”

Smith was about to protest, but Steve wasn’t finished. “You’ve done your job. There could be all kinds of… Things down here, and the last thing we need is someone unarmed getting in our way.” Then, Steve had an idea. “Miller, you stay and look after Mr Smith.”

If Smith was angry, Miller was positively fuming at this. He struggled to compose himself and splutter out a response, but Steve was having none of it – he was not going down there with anyone he couldn’t trust.

“That’s an order, Mr Miller, and what’s more, my orders come from Mr Hammond. They are Mr Hammond’s orders. We do as we are told, remember?” Steve had begun to enjoy this.

There was a stunned silence as Miller struggled to comprehend the magnitude of this insult. Eventually, though, he must have reached some form of conclusion and stood to attention stiffly.

“Yes, sir.” Miller saluted haughtily. “Mr Smith, this way.” He turned on his heel and strode back down the corridor whence they had come.

Smith looked at Steve coldly. “Do not think you’ve heard the last of this.” He turned and followed Miller, quickly disappearing from view. Steve took a deep breath and followed the others through the hole in the rock fall.

_Showtime._


	7. Revelations

Rodriguez led the way down the corridor. It had apparently been hewn from the bedrock of the Isla Nublar _._ The passage was larger this side of the blockage and the big Costa Rican could stand unhindered, although his head did occasionally brush against a root hanging from the ceiling.

After a seemingly indeterminate period of walking in the pitch black, Rodriguez stopped suddenly. “There is door here, señors.”

“Is it locked?” Johnny asked.

Rodriguez shoved the door experimentally. It slowly creaked open.

“No, señor.”

They stepped through the well-worn doorway and found themselves in a huge cavern – in the torchlight they could make out several desks and consoles, as well as a glass balcony jutting out from the far wall.

“This must be the lab.” Steve said. “Reckon the lights still work?”

Eddy ran his hand down the wall beside the door and immediately found what he was looking for – a circuit breaker, situated at shoulder height.

“Hold on to your butts.” The Texan quoted his old colleague, throwing the switch.

A deep rumble echoed around the cavern, quickly followed by the high-pitched whine of turbines spooling up. The sound eventually faded and the lights flickered on dimly. Steve couldn’t help but marvel at Hammond’s engineering.

_Two years out of commission and the generators still work. Spared no expense._

Steve stepped gingerly across the floor, picking his way through the dust in the glow of the gradually brightening lights above. “Alright, gents, you know what we’re after. Let’s turn this place upside down.”

Eddy made a beeline for the glass balcony while Johnny and Rodriguez began to rifle through a bank of cabinets. Steve headed towards a small door cut into the cavern wall.

Upon closer inspection, Steve saw that the door sported a rusty padlock.

_Strange… The roof must leak._

Steve brought the butt of his shotgun down on the lock and it sprung open, the casing falling to the floor and shattering at his feet. Steve cast a cursory glance down and saw, to his horror, that there was a small hole in the wall near the base of the door. Once again, the hole would just have been big enough for a medium-sized dog.

_I have a bad feeling about this. But, still, better say something cool when you kick down the door._

Raising his weapon, he kicked down the door.

“Something cool.”

The room was empty.

Exhaling in relief, Steve lowered his shotgun and scanned the room more closely – it was much smaller than the other cave, one wall completely taken up by a row of freezers.

_Bingo._

Steve cautiously lifted the lid of the first one, an icy blast hitting him square in the face. Unfortunately, it contained nothing but empty syringes and chunks of slushy coolant.

_Second time lucky._

He opened the second lid – this freezer was also cold, but empty.

_Third’s a charm._

This one was possibly the coldest, but empty too.

_Only one left – I bloody hope we haven’t come all this way for nothing._

The fourth was anything but empty. It was scattered with shards of black plastic, oozing with some form of foul smelling goo. A horrible suspicion crossed Steve’s mind and he reached inside, fishing for one of the larger pieces of material. A quick glance at it confirmed his fears – the plastic bore the words “below –20 degrees” stencilled in white.

_No, no, NO!_

There was no doubt in his mind that freezer number four had contained the samples they were looking for, yet none remained intact. Steve stood still, struggling to come to terms with the repercussions of his discovery.

_No samples, no kids._

Steve turned on his heel and went to join the others, desperately trying to think of an alternative solution. Before he left the room, something dawned on him – there had been no gust of cold air as he opened the last freezer. The cooling system must have failed on that unit, bringing its contents back to room temperature.

As Steve went back to double check, something else caught his eye – there was a hole in the bottom of the freezer. A hole just big enough to allow the passage of a medium-sized dog. And, in the dust beside this hole, there were footprints. Three-toed footprints. Raptor footprints.

_They hatched. Cocking Nora!_

Steve ran for the door. “We need to get out of here, now!” He yelled, but the warning came just seconds too late. A cry of alarm went up from the other side of the lab, swiftly followed by two gunshots. In the half-light of the larger chamber, Steve saw Johnny lying on the floor and Rodriguez brandishing his rifle in the direction of a pile of boxes.

Steve charged across the lab and joined them, shotgun raised. “You okay, Johnny?” He asked.

“I… Think so.” Johnny got to his feet gingerly, nursing his left wrist. “There’s something down ‘ere, Steve. The little blighter’s got teeth.”

“Behind those crates, señor. A small lizard. I saw him run.” Rodriguez said, his gaze fixed on the pile of boxes.

Eddy burst onto the scene, panting and waving his shotgun wildly. “What was it? Where?”

“I didn’t see, exactly.” Johnny replied. “We opened up one of these ‘ere lockers and it jumped us – must have been hiding there the whole bloody time. Little critter sank its nippers into my ‘and, then ‘id behind those boxes – Roddy got a couple of shots off, but I reckon ‘e missed.”

“I do not very often.” Rodriguez interjected, a tad insulted.

Steve ignored him. “I reckon it’s a baby Raptor. I found some freezer units in the storeroom over there, but it looks like we’re too late – the cooling system failed and the samples have all hatched out.”

Eddy stared at the young warden. “You’re crazy. Surely that’s not possible?”

“That’s what they said about them breeding. And look what bloody happened.” Steve replied grimly.

“So… That’s it then? No samples? Mission failed? We’re just going home?”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t know what else to do. The samples were all destroyed, smashed into tiny pieces.”

There was silence as this information sunk in. The operation was in tatters; without the samples there was no hope for Hammond’s grandchildren.

Eddy was the first to speak, frowning hard. “We’ve been led up the garden path.”

Steve looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Samples don’t just hatch out by themselves. The mission was never about that. We were meant to bring back god damn live dinosaur embryos.”

Steve suddenly saw Hammond’s ruse. Realising he’d never be able to persuade them to recover a clutch of dangerous Raptor eggs, whatever the stakes may be, he had pretended the kidnappers were merely after samples. While they believed they would only be handing over scientific research, they would in fact be delivering a deadly weapon to the criminals. A weapon that could breed.

“Synthetic eggs…” Steve murmured. “Of course. They were growing Raptors in this lab… And now we’re slap bang in the middle of their nest.”

“Um… So… What’re we gonna do?” Johnny asked. “The samples ‘ave all gone and now we’re being ‘unted by little baby dinosaurs.”

Right on cue, an inhuman scream echoed around the chamber. Rodriguez, who had been deeply engrossed in watching the crates and played no part in the discussion, wheeled round and squeezed off a few shots in the general direction of the noise.

“I’m not sure they’re all so little.” Steve muttered.

“We’d better scarper.” Johnny began to sidle towards the exit, closely followed by the others. Rodriguez brought up the rear, weapon raised as he searched for a fleeting glimpse of the unseen enemy.

“There, behind the workbench!” Eddy spotted one. Then, Johnny did too. “Another, the little bugger just jumped off the balcony.” Rodriguez, feeling left out, fired a couple more rounds into the floor.

“Hold fire.” Steve whispered as they backed towards the door. Then, the attack came all at once. There was another high-pitched screech and the Raptors broke cover, dashing towards the four humans as one seething, wheeling body. Rodriguez abandoned all pretence of warning shots and opened fire, his M16 spitting tongues of flame as he attempted to mow down the aggressors. The other three followed suit and blazed away into the dimly lit room, the sound of gunfire deafening in the enclosed space. The attack was over as quickly as it had begun, and a deathly silence fell again.

“Did… Did we get them?” Steve asked, a little shakily. Rodriguez stepped forward, sniffed, and crouched, carefully examining the floor. When he got to his feet and turned to face the others, he had a look of bewilderment etched across his features. “None dead, señor.” He said. “No blood, nada. I missed again.” The last words were spoken disbelievingly.

Eddy was equally bemused. “Could’ve sworn I smoked at least two of ‘em.”

The second attack came. This time, the creatures struck silently, the only sound coming from the scuffling of claws on the tiled laboratory floor. Three of the Raptors singled out Rodriguez and flew at the big man with their jaws wide open, but they underestimated the big Costa Rican – with almost superhuman reactions, Rodriguez span and swung the butt of his rifle in a vicious arc, snapping one of the Raptor’s necks and laying another clean out for the count. The third landed on its backside and, with a terrified squeal, darted for cover.

Steve and Eddy were squeezing shots into the dinosaur ranks to no obvious effect and, seeing Rodriguez holding his own against the Raptor pack, made a break for the door. Moments later, Johnny joined them in the corridor, frantically struggling to clear his jammed M16.

Rodriguez stooped to pick up the dead Raptor and sprinted for the exit, firing his rifle from the hip as he ran. The Costa Rican somehow managed to overtake the raptors and reach the door, which Steve slammed shut after him before leaning back against it and breathing hard. He noticed for the first time that there were lights set in the walls of the passage, apparently also powered by the laboratory generators.

_We made it._

Eddy’s shotgun roared, the sound momentarily disorientating in the confined space. Steve looked at the Texan questioningly, who wordlessly pointed at the base of the door. The others followed his finger and saw the hole that had, until moments ago, accommodated a murderous dinosaur.

“Run?” Johnny enquired, panting.

“Run.” Steve agreed.

However long it had taken to reach the laboratory, it took a tenth of the time to get back to the rock fall. They pelted hell-for-leather down the passage and hurled themselves through the gap. As last man had dived through, Rodriguez began blocking up the hole, using his M16 as a shovel while the others scrabbled at the smaller rocks with their hands.

Spurred on by the cries from the other side increasing in volume, the team soon had the hole filled in. The small Raptors seemed to be attempting to dig a way through but were soon discouraged by a flurry of warning shots from Rodriguez. “Cover your ears, señors!”

At last, the screeching faded as the dinosaurs returned to their nest. The humans sank down, exhausted by their narrow escape.

“That was close.” Steve observed.

“Too bloody close.” Johnny agreed.

“Hell, we’re safe with ol’ one-man-army, here.” Eddy motioned to Rodriguez, who smiled bashfully before slinging the dead dinosaur to the floor.

“So, what you make of this, señors?” He asked.

Steve moved in to take closer look. The creature certainly resembled a juvenile raptor, with its bony head and tell-tale thumb claw. However, its markings differed from those Steve had seen before and the scaly plates along its back shimmered strangely in the dim light. Steve estimated the creature to be about the size of a Labrador.

_A medium-sized dog._

Steve looked at Eddy, who was also studying the dinosaur intently. “You’re the expert.”

Eddy nodded slowly, struggling to tear his gaze away from the creature’s scaly hide. “It’s definitely a Raptor, a baby one. I’d say perhaps… One month old. But, to tell y’all the truth, I’ve never seen one quite like this… It’s anatomically very close to the park ones, but there’s something… I dunno. Different.”

Rodriguez grunted and drew his pistol. “Cover your ears, señors.”

His companions scarcely had time to comply before he opened fire on the raptor carcass, the shots finding their mark from point blank range. The Costa Rican then holstered his pistol, leaned over and picked up the corpse. He indicated the animal’s scaly skin, which was, unbelievably, untouched.

“See?” He said in distaste, throwing the corpse down again. “No holes from bullets.”

This revelation, somewhat understandably, brought a disbelieving silence from the others. But, try as they might, nobody could come up with any other explanation for what they had just witnessed.

_It’s a bulletproof dinosaur._

“You know, we could just go and ask Smith.” Steve suddenly realised.

“Sounds like a plan.” Johnny agreed.

Rodriguez went to pick up the dead Raptor but Steve stopped him. “That… Thing… Stays here.” Rodriguez looked disappointed at this but didn’t bother to argue, instead picking up his rifle and cradling it lovingly.

The team headed towards the daylight and quickly reached the entrance, momentarily blinded by the bright midday sunshine that greeted them. They had apparently been inside for a while. As their eyes adjusted, Steve cast around for the scientist – he was nowhere to be seen.

“Great. Where have they got to?” Steve growled. “Everyone spread out, see if you can find them.”

The others obeyed and made their way out of the clearing, carefully combing the surrounding forest in search of the missing Smith and Miller. After a few minutes of fruitless hunting, Rodriguez’s voice boomed out through the trees.

“Señors! Over here!”

It took Steve mere moments to reach the big Costa Rican, who was crouching beside a clump of swamp grass.

A chill ran down Steve’s spine as he approached the scene. The grass was red, red with blood – the blood of the stricken scientist. Kneeling beside Rodriguez, Steve saw that Smith didn’t have long left. He was bleeding from multiple wounds, his face ashen, skin clammy and – the worst part – very little remained of his left leg.

Seconds later, Johnny and Eddy burst through the trees and pulled up short. Johnny reached for his first aid kit instinctively, but his hand dropped away when he saw the extent of the scientist’s injuries. He had needed hospital a good thirty minutes ago and was well past the doctor stage now – a priest would have been more appropriate.

Steve looked at Johnny for confirmation of Smith’s condition and the medic shook his head, the message clear – there was no hope.

Smith sensed their presence and opened his eyes, pupils turned unseeingly skywards. Steve knew he had to take his chance – the dying man could still help the others survive.

“Hey…” To his horror, Steve realised he didn’t even know the man’s first name. “I know you must be in a lot of pain, but we need to know something very important.” Steve began. Eddy motioned at him to hurry up – time was of the essence. “Those dinosaurs you were breeding in the lab… Just how special were they?”

The scientist opened his mouth and coughed once, twice, then spoke, his voice grating. “Ahhh, yes… My… Babies… Special… So very, very special…” He wheezed, breaking off into what may well have been a laugh. “My greatest achievement… Our finest hour… Project…” He trailed off and his eyes began to close for what Steve guessed could well be the final time. He suddenly remembered the other member of their party. “And Miller? Where’s Miller?”

“Miller… Drew them away… They chased him and left me… To die… I’m going to die… Die…” His eyes shut and, as realisation suddenly dawned, he began to cry. “Don’t let me die.”

“I’m sorry.” Was all Steve could think of to say. “I’m so, so sorry.” On impulse he reached for the scientist’s hand and grasped it tightly, as if he could help the suffering man cling on desperately to life. As Steve felt the final breath leave Smith’s body, a lump rose in his throat. He let go of the scientist’s hand and the limb fell lifelessly to the floor, landing with a splash in the pool of blood.

Steve got up and turned away from the others, striding away from the dead scientist – he had to get away, anywhere but there. He heard murmured conversation from the others and felt their eyes on him as he left the scene and made his way back to the clearing. Chest heaving, he sat down and leant against the sun warmed rock face. He couldn’t help but think about the man he hardly knew – the man who had died under his leadership, entirely because of a decision he had made. If he had let Smith come with them into the lab, he would still be alive.

_Miller was right… I shouldn’t be in charge. He’s dead because of me._

Hearing the others approaching, Steve hastily rubbed his eyes and took a long drink from his canteen. Johnny came over and sat down beside the young warden.

“You okay?” He asked, unknowingly mimicking Steve’s words from just a few days ago – it seemed like a lifetime.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Steve lied. “It’s just… How many people have to die in this place? There’s been so much death here, so much pain… I wish we… I wish I never came here. One man dead, another missing, all for nothing… And because of me. If I hadn’t sent them out of that cave, Smith would still be alive now.”

Johnny took was silent for a moment before he spoke again. “D’ya know why I volunteered for this mission, Steve?”

Steve answered dismissively. “Yeah, ‘cause you’ve got two kids...”

Johnny shook his head. “Not true. Remember when I said I was injured in a training exercise?”

Steve nodded.

“Also not true. I served in the Gulf War as a combat medic with the Royal Marines. My section were on patrol one night when a gang of ‘ostiles jumped us – took out my entire squad, all save for me and another young lad – Jimbo, we called ‘im. Anyway, we popped smoke and made a break for it. Felt like we were getting away, but then we come to this big open area. Long story short, I told ‘im to go first while I laid down cover fire. Poor bugger stood on a land mine. I ‘ad a look, but there was nothin’ left – just a bit of ‘elmet and his gun. What makes it worse is I got back to base without a bloody scratch on me. Even got an ‘onourable discharge on psychological grounds… I still have the nightmares. But listen, the point is, if I ‘adn’t sent ‘im across that field first, ‘e would still be alive today. It should ‘ave been me that stepped on that land mine…” Johnny trailed off.

Steve didn’t know what to say. Luckily, Johnny continued after a pause. “Point is, we’re all ‘ere for a reason. For me, it’s ‘cos I’ve got something to prove. To my family, to Jimbo’s family, to myself, I dunno. I just know we all make mistakes, and when you really think about it, ‘ow was you to know that scientist would get attacked by a gang of bloody dinos when we ain’t seen none all day. No more than I knew that field was chock full of land mines.”

“We’ve got your back, Steve.” Eddy slapped the young warden on the back. “If we didn’t trust you, do you really think we’d have followed you here?”

Rodriguez concurred. “Is not your fault, señor. I don’t know how to say… Uh, shit happens.”

This raised a chuckle from the others.

“So, what’s the plan now, boss?” Eddy asked.

“Bury Smith, I guess.” Steve replied. Rodriguez took a sharp intake of breath and shook his head vigorously. “Bad idea señor. Very bad.”

“Roddy’s right, Steve.” Johnny chimed in. “We ‘ave to keep moving. Those dinos will see to ‘im, rest assured.”

“Guess you’re right.” Steve said reluctantly, “I suppose we’d better try and find Miller, then.” He looked around, his eyes settling on a tree that stood a good deal taller than the rest. “I’ll shin up that tree and see if I can spot him.”

The others nodded in agreement as Steve slipped off his pack and headed for the tree. There were plenty of branches, making climbing easy, and Steve made fast progress up the tree.

Miller led the dinos away from Smith… Could I have been wrong about him? He’s a bit on the cold side, granted, but he must be a brave man.

Thoughts whirling around his head, he quickly reached the summit of the tree and surveyed the surrounding landscape in search of anything that may provide a clue to Miller’s whereabouts.

Unfortunately, the search proved fruitless. Steve was already considering his next move when something caught his eye – a thin plume of blue woodsmoke had begun to rise from what up until this point he had assumed to be a small thicket in the distance.

Steve rummaged in his pocket for a pair of binoculars and inspected the area more closely, scarcely believing what he saw. The thicket was in fact a heavy layer of camouflage netting, enshrouding a circle of five large round tents. The smoke originated from a small campfire in the centre, which was being vigorously attended by a large man who apparently wished to extinguish it. Sweeping the area, Steve saw that the tents were pitched within an overgrown Dilophosaurus holding pen, and that the surrounding electric fence had been surreptitiously cleared of vegetation.

_Bloody hell… Someone’s set up a full-blown dinosaur-proof campsite…_

After observing for a few moments more, Steve was about to vacate his lookout and inform the others of his discovery when he detected movement within the circle of tents. A figure darted out from one of the canvas constructions and began sprinting towards the fence. Judging by the long hair and size, Steve guessed it was a girl, perhaps in her mid-teens. A moment later, two more men came barrelling out from another tent and gave chase. The pursuit didn’t last long, ending abruptly when the girl reached the perimeter fence and realised she had nowhere to go.

_Looks like she’s trying to escape…_

From this point, it took the men but a few second to apprehend the girl by means of a rugby tackle. She was then hauled to her feet and unceremoniously dragged back to the nearest tent. However, there was just time for an event that would change the entire course of their mission. Just before she vanished from sight, the girl screamed.

Despite the distance, Steve nearly fell out of his tree when the faint cry reached his ears. He knew that sound only too well, having grown familiar with it over two years ago. The scream belonged to Alexis Murphy.


	8. Merry Men

“Come off it, Steve, there’s nobody here but us!” Eddy was disbelieving, a sentiment echoed by the other members of the party.

“It’s true, I swear!” Steve replied, his voice running high with emotion. “Someone’s set up camp in one of the old Dilo holding pens, about three miles to the north-east. Looks like they’ve even charged up one of the old fences, but that’s not the least of it…”

Eddy held up his hands to halt Steve’s explanation – he had been repeating this apparently preposterous story since the moment he vacated the tree.

“Hold your horses and let me get this straight.” The Texan began. “You saw some smoke coming from one of the ol’ pens. Could it have been Miller trying to get our attention?”

“No, I’ve already told you, there’s a bloody great campsite there!” Steve dismissed Eddy’s speculation. “And, what’s more…”

Eddy gestured for a silence again. “Bush fire, perhaps?”

Steve shook his head. “You know it ain’t that. Here’s the thing…”

“I guess it could be poachers?” Johnny cut him off. “After all, you’d ‘ave to be crazy to camp out on this godforsaken…”

“Will you just listen!” Steve shouted over him. “I know it sounds crazy, but I think that camp belongs to the kidnappers.”

There was silence for a moment, before Eddy burst out laughing. “Are you sure you haven’t been out in the sun too long?”

“Just hear me out.” Steve continued. “I counted three men in the camp. When they weren’t looking, a girl ran out from one of the tents – looked to me like she was trying to escape. One of the blokes caught her, and when they tried to take her back inside, she screamed. Come on, you must have heard the scream?”

The uncomfortable silence confirmed that they had.

“Thought it was a dino.” Johnny mumbled unconvincingly.

Steve kept going. “Now, this is where you’ll have to trust me. I was stuck on this island with those kids two years ago, back when things went south for the park. I know that scream – hell, I heard it enough – and it belongs to Lex Murphy. I’m positive.”

While Steve was talking, Rodriguez had been staring at him intently, carefully gauging his expression. Eventually, the big Costa Rican spoke.

“He knows what he has seen, señors. We should… Uh… In-vesti-gate.” Rodriguez struggled to pronounce the last word correctly, but this didn’t lessen the impact – the big man rarely offered his opinion.

“Don’t tell me you believe this shit too, Roddy? Steve has had a tough day, he’s probably just been seeing things.” Eddy said.

“Either way, I guess it can’t ‘urt to ‘ave a look, right?” Johnny interjected. “It ain’t like we ‘ave anything to lose, we’ll be ‘eadin ‘ome empty ‘anded tomorrow anyway. Steve, is there anywhere we can get a good look at this campsite of yours? I ain’t climbing no trees.”

Steve thought for a moment, then nodded. “The warden’s lodge has an observation tower. You can see most of the island from up there.”

Eddy shook his head wearily. “You’re crazy. I’m stuck on this island with a bunch of dinosaurs and three raving lunatics.”

“And just ‘ow far away is this lodge?” Johnny ignored Eddy’s protests.

“About an hour’s walk. We’ll have to head that way anyway, to get to the helipad.” Steve replied.

“Then it sounds like we’d better get moving. Raptor boy, are you coming or not?”

“Goddamn waste of time.” Eddy grumbled irritably. “But, hell, it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

Johnny took this as an affirmative and gave Steve the nod. “Then we’re agreed. Lead on!”

Steve led on.

The team walked in silence, each man left to his own thoughts as they made their way through the steaming jungle. A short while later they finally encountered their first dinosaur outside the lab, an Ankylosaur harmlessly plodding about its heavily armoured business.

The journey took slightly longer than the promised hour, mainly due to the continued attacks by the island’s resident mosquitoes and two paddock fences that had to be negotiated. However, both were traversed without a hitch, and at last the four reached Ranger Plaza – a paved square which, had the park become operational, would have acted as a base for the island’s staff.

Arriving at the lodge, Steve was delighted to find the storm shutters had remained in place, rendering the building impregnable.

“Our house, in the middle of our street.” Steve remarked.

“Nice digs.” Johnny commented.

“Just wait until you see the Jacuzzi.” Steve searched for the emergency release lever for the garage door – the same door he had carefully locked behind him as he drove his jeep into the storm to search for his father, two years ago.

_Just before shit hit the fan._

“Aha!” Steve found what he was looking for and pulled the lever, a muffled clunk audible as the bolts securing the door withdrew. “Give me a hand, Eddy.”

Between them, the two wardens began to push the protesting steel sheet upwards. Two years worth of rust suddenly gave way, and it began to creak open. Steve ushered his companions inside and closed the door quickly, motioning for the others to turn on their torches. When the warden had finished securing the entrance, Johnny tapped him on the shoulder.

“‘Ow do we know this place ain’t full of baby dinos, like the lab was?”

Steve exchanged a smile with Eddy.

“My dad had this lodge built to his own specifications. It’s cut several hundred meters into the mountainside, and who knows how deep the foundations run. It was designed to double as an emergency bunker in the event of a storm, or… Well, what did happen, happening.”

“Bob had his doubts about this park from the start.” Eddy explained. “He insisted Hammond build refuge bunkers all around the site, but this was meant to be the command room in case the Visitor Centre was lost. Turns out, he wasn’t wrong.”

Johnny seemed satisfied. “Top man.”

“Wait here while I get the backup power online.” Steve left the garage area, took a sharp right and jogged up a flight of stairs to the generator room. Opening the door, he brushed aside a few cobwebs and threw a circuit breaker on the wall. Nothing happened.

_Bugger, automatic cut-off must have failed._

He crossed to the console, swept a thick layer of dust away and glanced at the gauges.

_Yep, tanks are bone dry._

Then Steve had a brainwave.

_I wonder if we left the solar panels plugged in..._

Sure enough, there was a thick yellow power cable snaking into the back of the main junction box.

_If the batteries still work, we should have two years' worth of power in the bank._

Steve swiftly flipped open the cabinet and reconnected a section of wiring. The solar panels were never meant to power the entire lodge and were mainly used to recharge the power tools, but Steve hoped there would be enough stored in the cells to keep the lights on for a few hours at least. As it turned out, he was correct – after a moment’s delay, the overhead strips began to bathe the room in deep orange light.

_Result!_

Steve headed downstairs to join the others and found them getting comfortable in the off-duty room. Johnny had discovered the kitchenette and was busy making tea, while Eddy was slumped down in his old armchair, exhausted. Only Rodriguez seemed interested in the observation tower, so Steve led him back up the flight of steps to the roof platform. The tower rose high above them on rusting metal stilts, but this didn’t deter the Costa Rican who went up it like a monkey – or perhaps, more fittingly, a patriarchal gorilla.

Steve, secure in the knowledge that the structure could support the mercenary’s sizeable bulk, followed him up gingerly. The climb was not pleasant but, when he reached the top, the view was worth it – the island was even more beautiful than Steve remembered in the dappled afternoon sunshine.

Keen to get down to business, Rodriguez looked at Steve questioningly.

“Which way, señor?”

Steve moved closer to the railing. “There, about halfway between us and that hill… You see?” He replied.

There was a brief pause as the Costa Rican produced a suitably large pair of binoculars and scanned the area methodically. Then, he lowered them again and turned back to Steve, a huge smile plastered across his features.

“I told them, señor. I knew you were not seeing things. I was right.” He said proudly.

“Thank you, Roddy. Means a lot.” Steve replied with a smile.

“Do not mention it, señor. Now come, we must tell the others. They will want to see for themselves.”

Steve and Rodriguez quickly made their way back to the off-duty room. They found Eddy in his preferred state – fast asleep – and Johnny who, having finished with the tea, was making bread from some ingredients he had found in a cupboard.

“Love baking, me.” He said cheerfully.

Steve allowed Eddy to finish his nap and Johnny to finish his bread before asking them both to follow him to the roof, backed up by Rodriguez. Reluctantly, Eddy ascended the observation tower, closely followed by Johnny and Steve while the big Costa Rican kept an eye on the oven.

“Right, what am I supposed to be looking at?” Eddy asked bad-temperedly.

Steve handed him a pair of binoculars as Johnny took out his own.

“There, between us and that small hill. Looks like a thicket at first.” Steve pointed.

“That’s because it _is_ a damn thicket.” Eddy grumbled, raising his binoculars and making a half-hearted attempt at a sweep.

“There, see, absolutely noth… Jesus titty-fuckin’ Christ!” Apparently, Eddy had spotted it.

“What? Where, where?” Johnny looked around frantically, attempting to follow Eddy’s gaze.

“Bless my bollocks.” He breathed at last.

“I hate to say I told you so… But I told you so.” Steve muttered.

“I’ll give you that.” Johnny returned. “Sorry I ever doubted you, mate.”

Eddy let out a long, defeated sigh. “Why do I get the feeling we’re never gonna hear the last of this.”

The trio headed downstairs to where Rodriguez was waiting, still grinning widely. Eddy cut him off before he could comment.

“Say a word, and I’ll put Raptor shit in your paella.”

Rodriguez replied in mock indignation. “I never open my mouth, señor.”

They pulled up an armchair each and began to discuss their next move.

“Alright, so we’ve established that this campsite does, in fact, exist.” Johnny began.

Eddy glanced at Rodriguez. “Raptor. Shit. Paella.”

“Any ideas as to what we do now?” Johnny continued.

“Look, are we honestly gonna believe that Steve saw one of Hammond’s grandkids at that campsite?” Eddy said, but Rodriguez interjected quickly.

“He was right about campsite, so I am… I am in-clin-ed… To believe him about girl.”

Johnny nodded in agreement. “Fair point.”

“I still don’t get it.” Eddy persisted. “Why would Hammond’s grandkids be brought here, of all places? There’s no way that can be the girl you saw.”

Steve drew a deep breath and took the plunge. “I’ve been thinking.” He said. “I’ve got a theory. There are still a plenty of blanks that still need filling in, but I reckon it could explain a lot.”

“God help us all.” Eddy muttered, but everyone ignored him.

“Just for a moment, let’s imagine we’re looking to get our hands on some experimental Raptor eggs. Where’s the first place we’d come looking?” Steve began.

“’Ere, I guess.” Johnny replied.

“Exactly. And, what are the kidnappers after? Raptor eggs. You with me?”

The others nodded cautiously.

“So that explains why the kidnappers – the dirty dogs, or whatever they call themselves – would have a campsite on the island. But, like us, when they got here, they discovered the eggs had hatched out. So, naturally, Hammond would be their next port of call.”

“Make sense.” Rodriguez nodded encouragingly.

“So, this gang give Hammond more credit than he’s due, assume he managed to save some of the eggs, and make an offer to buy them. Of course, Hammond has to refuse because he doesn’t actually have any. But, they think he’s bluffing, so they kidnap the kids.”

“But why bring them ‘ere?” Johnny asked.

“That’s what I can’t work out.” Steve replied. “But, doesn’t it strike anyone else as strange that the handover point is in Costa Rica?”

The quiet was such that you could have heard a pin drop. Eddy broke it by cursing soundly. “Now that you mention it.”

Steve allowed himself a slight smile, knowing the battle was won. “Think about it. They already had a fortified campsite on the island. If Hammond did chance going to the authorities, where’s the only place on Earth they wouldn’t look? Dinosaur island, the park that no longer exists.”

The others could see the logic in this.

“And, since we got in, they could ‘ave done too.” Johnny said.

“They did get in – judging by the amount of gear they have, a number of times.” Steve agreed.

“You know how crazy you guys sound?” Eddy cut in. “So crazy that you might just be onto something.” He said bitterly.

Steve could see this was intended as a compliment, however begrudging, and nodded.

“Let’s assume you’re on the money with that guess, then, and that girl you saw actually is one of Hammond’s grandkids.” Eddy continued slowly. “What do you say we do about it?”

“We could wait for the chopper to come tomorrow and call for reinforcements?” Johnny suggested. Steve shook his head.

“No, there’s not enough time.” He replied. “It’ll take ages for the locals to sort themselves out, and by then the doggy gang will be long gone. That’s assuming they believe us in the first place.” Steve glanced accusingly at Eddy, who suddenly looked guiltily.

“Also, don’t forget the handover is in two days’ time and we have nothing to bargain with. We can’t take that chance. We have to act now.”

Eddy sighed deeply. “So, what’re you saying, Rambo? We dive in and rescue ‘em, all guns blazing?”

“No, that’d be silly.” Steve paused before continuing.

“Look, I’ll be frank with you. Last week, I saw a lad get beaten up in an alley. Nothing out of the ordinary in my part of the world. But for some reason, I didn’t go to help him, and I’m not sure why. I froze and stood there, like bloody helpless idiot. And you know what? That brought something home to me. I’ve spent the last two years of my life watching from the side lines, never doing anything the way I used to. But not anymore. My Dad died a hero and, honestly, I’d rather do that than keep living the way I have been. And, here’s the catch; I know that, deep down, you all feel the same way. I’ve been thinking about what you told me earlier, Johnny. I know why Hammond picked us. We’re people with something to prove. He knew we’d accept this mission, because we’d give ourselves no choice. He knew we all desperately wanted a chance to show what we’re really made of – he played us. But I don’t care. I know what I want. I want to do something that justifies my existence. And, like it or not, with you or by myself, that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Steve ran out of breath and stopped. The silence in the room seemed to last for hours.

“I let a man get killed by a Raptor.” Eddy said finally, his voice husky.

“Back when the park first started, we were moving the dominant female to a new pen. I was overseeing the whole kaboodle from up high. They gave me a rifle and told me to shoot first, ask questions later at the first sign of trouble. Everything was going well, at least, until the gatekeeper slipped and fell on the crate. The Raptor pulled him in by his legs. Your dad was yelling and yelling at me to shoot her, but I held off too long – he was dead by the time I pulled the trigger. Like you said, Steve, I froze. There ain’t a single night I don’t hear his screams, over and over in my head…” Eddy trailed off.

The Texan seemed to have aged years in the time it took for him to explain. Steve began to see his old friend for who he really was – the pain he concealed so well behind his grumpy façade.

What happened next came as a complete shock – Rodriguez began to speak.

“I have point to prove too, señor. My family… Dead. Murdered. Long, long time ago. You say in Mr Hammond’s house that I am mercenary… No, señor. I fight only for who is right. Sí, I take money, but only to live on, to fill my guns with bullets. I think I am like you… Also.” He explained softly.

Another silence.

“Roddy… I don’t even know your name.” Steve said at last.

“My name is Rodriguez, señor.” The Costa Rican replied, confused.

“I meant your first name.” Steve said with a smile.

“Oh. I am Pablo, señor. But nobody calls me that.” Rodriguez added hurriedly.

“Pablo. I’m sorry, Pablo. I had no idea… I had no right to say what I said about you.” Steve said quietly. “Of course, you’re one of us.”

Rodriguez looked up. “So… I am in the… Merry Men?” He asked solemnly.

It was all Steve could do to keep a straight face at this reference. Johnny snorted into his sleeve.

“Roddy, without you, there is Merry Men.” Steve responded, as seriously as he could.

Rodriguez bowed his head. “I am honoured, señor. But, enough talk – we must go and save the niños. Make a plan.” He got to his feet.

A half-smile played across Steve’s face. “Well said.” He stood.

Johnny rose too. “Wouldn’t miss it for the bloody world.”

Eddy shook his head and joined them, back to his usual cantankerous self. “Well, we’ve had a little heart-to-heart, and I’m all warm and fuzzy. And goddamn standing. Happy?”

“Very. But, unless you fancy bringing up two kids in a dinosaur infested theme park, I suggest we get a move on. We’ve got a chopper to catch.”

“We’re all screwed. You’d better have a plan, Muldoon!” Eddy growled, but Steve detected the note of humour in his voice.

“Trust me.” Steve replied lightly. “Now, what was that about the Merry Men?”


	9. Covert Ops

Steve was lying on his front in the thick undergrowth, trying desperately not to sneeze. The wood ash he had used to camouflage his face earlier was flaking off and floating up his nose, adding to his already significant discomfort.

_Note to self: never let Johnny cook anything, ever again._

Johnny had meant well when he’d spent the afternoon baking, but Steve suspected that the two-year-old flour he’d used to make the bread had acquired some rather exotic properties during its time in storage – properties that his stomach did not particularly appreciate.

The team had spent the remainder of the day in the warden’s lodge, planning the evening’s activities and picking through the equipment stored there. Rodriguez had spent a good hour foraging in the armoury, eventually emerging with an enormous rocket launcher and a huge smile – Steve was not sure which had been bigger. As soon as darkness fell, the team had geared up and set off for the disused holding pens in one of the park’s old gas jeeps. They had parked up slightly over a mile away, and now Steve was waiting impatiently for the others to take their places and set the plan in motion.

_How long can it take Johnny to find a comfy bush?_

Steve checked his watch for the umpteenth time. It had been dark for over two hours now and he had been in position for around fifteen minutes – the fact that he was situated barely 50 yards away from the electrified fence didn’t make him any more comfortable.

At long, long last, Steve’s headset – several of which Eddy had found in an old storage container – crackled into life.

“Little John to Robin ‘Ood. I’m in position.” The voice was unmistakably Johnny’s.

_At bloody last._

Steve pressed the PT button on his headset and replied in hushed tones. “Robin Hood, roger that.”

A moment later, another voice sounded in Steve’s ear. “This is Fry Tuck. Move in, señor.”

Steve suppressed a smile. “Thank you, ‘Fry Tuck’. Keep your eyes open.”

Rodriguez had insisted on the use of codenames (“Is more professional, señors.”) ever since Steve had outlined the plan. In fact, the big Costa Rican’s reference to the Merry Men reminded Steve of a Robin Hood movie he had seen. The film’s heroes sneaked into the town of Nottingham under cover of darkness by means of ropes fired over the town’s walls. Robin Hood and his band then climbed over, freed the imprisoned townspeople and relieved the Sheriff of Nottingham of his ill-gotten gains.

“Scarlett. Good to go.” Eddy’s Texan drawl was the last voice to report in.

“Understood. Let’s rock and roll.” Steve whispered.

Positioning was crucial to the success of the operation. Johnny and Rodriguez were located on opposite sides of the camp, the former towards the rear and the latter just outside the hinged section that functioned as a gate. Both were equipped with military-grade night vision goggles (as opposed to the chunky plastic ones carried in the visitor cars) and had been instructed to keep watch while Steve and Eddy went to work.

Steve took a careful look around and, satisfied he was unobserved, hauled himself out of the undergrowth and began to glide silently towards the fence. This was where his experiences growing up in the African bush came into play; he was well practised at such manoeuvres and, although he hadn’t used this specific skill set in a while, it was like riding a bike – you never forget.

The journey to the fence was uneventful. After taking another quick look around, he knelt beside a tree stump and reached for the fence repair kit clipped to his belt. Steve allowed himself a moment of self-congratulation as he remembered opening the Velcro strap back at the lodge to make as little noise as possible outside the camp.

_I love it when I think of everything._

The fence repair kit was a clever piece of equipment, allowing wardens to fix faulty sections of wire without having to power down the entire fence. It consisted of lengthy insulated wires, known as a ‘sparkies’, tipped at both ends with powerful capacitors and specially designed clips. These were designed to slice through a fence strand when applied, instantly redirecting the current into the corresponding capacitor. This allowed a few seconds for the ranger to apply the other clip and reroute the current around the damaged area, allowing the fence strand to be replaced without risk of electrocution.

Swiftly, Steve whipped out four sparkies from his kit and applied one to the lowest wire. There were a few sparks as it fell away, but no sound.

_So far, so good._

Steve did the same for the second wire – again, all went as expected. The third sparky also engaged without a hitch.

_Last one… Nice and steady…_

The clips snapped shut and the wire fell away without a single spark. Steve let go a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and took a moment to admire the result of his handiwork – the wires sagged around the four insulated strands, creating a loose section in the fence. He quickly secured the four wires together with a cable tie, creating a hole at the base of the fence just large enough to crawl through.

Steve pressed the button on his headset again and addressed his Merry Men. “Nottingham breached. Moving in.”

“Copy, standing by.” Eddy replied tersely.

“All clear, señor.” Rodriguez added

Steve left his kit where it was – he would have no further need of it – and, pressing his body as close to the ground as he could, crawled under the gap in the wire. As soon as he was clear of the lethal fence, he slowly rose up on one knee to survey his surroundings.

Although night had fallen a while ago, the compound was partially illuminated by the light of the tropical moon and glow of the campfire embers. No lights shone through the canvas of any of the tents – the camp had either been left unattended, or its occupants were fast asleep. Steve was glad of this; the plan relied on them being unaware of his presence.

_Maybe it’s poker night at the Raptors’ place?_

Satisfied the coast was clear, Steve darted towards the tent into which he had witnessed the men drag Lex earlier – all seemed quiet.

“Alright, this is it. Watch my back.” He whispered, drawing his pistol.

“Got you covered.” Johnny replied, squinting down the sight of a scoped hunting rifle he had found back at the lodge.

Steve ducked inside the tent flap. The interior was pitch black, the only sound an eerie electronic hum that he could’ve sworn sounded like an air-conditioning unit. Flicking on the M1911’s taclight, he raised the weapon in both hands and carefully scanned the interior for signs of life. There were a few barrels, a handful of packing crates, a wooden trestle table, two chairs, a sizeable diesel generator and a device that resembled a refrigeration box from the laboratory that morning – that was where the humming sound was coming from.

_Strange…_

Steve tiptoed over to the freezer, lifted the lid and shone his taclight inside. He almost dropped the weapon when he saw what it contained. Inside were countless sleek, black cylinders, each bearing the words the words ‘Warning! Keep below –20 degrees.’ The box was full of Raptor eggs.

_What the hell?_

“Um… Gents?” Steve murmured.

“What’s up, Steve? Have you found ‘em?” Eddy asked immediately.

“No, but I did find something else... There’s a box full of those eggs in here. Unhatched.” Steve said. There was silence for a moment as the others digested this information.

“We’ll ‘ave time to figure out what’s going on later.” Johnny cut in. “Any sign of the kids?”

“Not yet… I’ll check the next tent.” Steve replied. He would have loved to slip one of the eggs into his pocket to show the others but, having seen what happened when they thawed out, decided against it.

_The last thing I need right now is a Raptor hatching in my trousers._

Quietly shutting the lid, Steve holstered his pistol and disappeared into the night, creeping around the circle of tents to the next one. Suddenly, a voice in his ear made him freeze.

“Señor! I mean, Robin Hood! There is a car coming!”

Steve dived for cover behind the nearest tent, and not a moment too soon. The campsite was immediately illuminated by the headlights of an old gas jeep.

“Is that ours?” Steve whispered.

“No, señor.” Rodriguez sounded certain. “This one is much… Cleaner _._ ”

His body pressed low to the ground, Steve peered around the side of the tent and saw a man disembark from the jeep and proceed to open the gate, rusting metal squealing in protest as he pushed on the insulated handle. The jeep was then driven inside the camp and the gate closed swiftly behind it, before another man climbed out of the vehicle and covered it in a heavy camouflage net.

_I hope they don’t see my hole in the fence._

Luckily, the two men seemed too deep in conversation to pay any attention to their surroundings. Finishing with the jeep, they made their way towards the tent directly opposite Steve’s hiding place. The warden watched in horror as they opened the flap and bright light spilled out into the night, the sound of raucous laughter drifting across the campsite on the breeze. There were apparently several other occupants of the tent as the newcomers were greeted loudly, but then the flap was closed and once again all fell silent.

_They were in there the whole time!_

The tents had to be made of some kind of blackout material, Steve realised. This would make sense, of course, as the camp would have to be hidden from prying aerial eyes. Whatever the case, his options were now somewhat limited; moving to the front of this tent and going in via the flap would be an extremely risky move as there was no way of knowing if it was inhabited.

_Thank god there was nobody in that last tent, I’d have walked straight into them. This may not have been such a good idea, after all._

Then, he remembered the boy in the alleyway back in London. The feeling of regret, of having done nothing. And, of course, there was the little girl back in Kenya. His father’s legacy. Most of all, the fear in the scream of Hammond’s granddaughter.

_It makes no difference how risky this is. I can’t abandon them now. I have to keep looking._

“Are we all clear?” Steve asked.

“All good. We’ll cover you while you make a run for it.” Eddy replied.

“No chance, I’m gonna to keep looking.” Steve circled the tent. The Texan’s only response was one of his trademark sighs, transmitted over the radio on purpose.

Approaching the problem afresh, Steve reasoned that there was only one way in besides the tent flap. He moved closer to the tent and peered at the base; it was constructed of thick, green fabric, the groundsheet stitched to the bottom of the walls.

_Time for a more direct approach. Roddy would be proud._

Steve reached for the knife strapped to his left thigh and drew it, the blade’s keen edge humming as it slid from its sheath. He found a seam in the fabric of the tent and slid the blade of his knife along it, splitting the material and opening a small but effective peephole. He pressed his eye against the slit; the interior of the tent was gloomy, the only light coming from a dim camping lantern suspended at the far side of the tent, very close to where Steve imagined the flap would be.

_Good job I checked, anyone coming in would be a sitting duck._

Casting his eye further around the tent, the young warden could just about make out some silhouetted items of furniture – a fold up table, a few chairs, a pile of packing cases and… He struggled to see… An irregular shape tucked in beside them.

_That’s either a person, or a bloody weird-shaped trouser press._

One of the kids?

_Or one of those kidnapper types from earlier…_

Steve knew he couldn’t take the chance. He didn’t have much say in the matter – he was going in. “Gents, I’m heading in the back way. Let me know if one of those blokes so much as sneezes.”

“Copy.” Eddy replied.

“Roger.” Johnny added.

“Be careful, señor.” Rodriguez finished.

The knife slipped easily into the canvas once more as Steve cut himself an entrance. Completing this, he put away his knife and drew his pistol from its holster, switching on the taclight and covering the bulb with his free hand. Then, moving slowly so as not to make a sound, he slid through the cut in the fabric and entered the dusk within.

It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, Steve saw that he was right – there was indeed a human figure, half hidden behind the pile of boxes. He noted with satisfaction that the figure must have its back to him as it was apparently unaware of his presence.

Steve tiptoed closer, still covering the taclight, and circumnavigated the pile of crates. He ducked down and prepared himself.

_Alright, the moment of truth. 3… 2… 1…_

Then he was up and around the crates and face to face with the shadowy figure, now illuminated in the bright, unforgiving glare of the pistol’s taclight. Sitting there, tied to a camping chair and staring up at Steve with terrified eyes, was Tim Murphy.


	10. Rescue

There was silence for a moment as they stared at each other.

"Hey, Tim." Steve whispered.

The boy didn’t respond. He simply gazed at the warden with wide, almond eyes – Steve hadn't seen anyone that scared in a long time, and it wasn't something he had missed.

"It's okay." Steve smiled in an attempt to seem reassuring, but it was never going to be nearly enough. "I've come to take you home."

Then Steve noticed the strip of tape covering Tim's mouth, preventing him from making a sound.

_Probably should have spotted that earlier._

"Let's get that off you." The warden pointed to the tape. "When I do, I need you to be really, really quiet – can you do that for me?"

Tim managed a tiny nod, eyes still fixed on Steve.

"Good boy."

Steve holstered his pistol and switched on his torch, placing it on a nearby box. He slowly moved towards the chair, approaching as one would a wild animal so as not to alarm the frightened youngster any further. Tim shied away from Steve's touch, straining to keep his small frame as far away from the warden as his bonds would allow.

"I won't hurt you, Tim. I promise."

Tim seemed to think for a moment, then allowed Steve to come closer. The warden knelt beside him and gently supported the boy's head with one hand, feeling him shivering. Steve realised he had no shirt on and was wearing only a torn pair of school shorts.

_Jesus…_

Steve carefully began to prise the tape away from Tim's mouth, running the fingers of his left hand down the back of the boy's neck as he did so – something he had used to do when calming the baby animals kept at the lodge, back in Kenya. Thankfully, the tape came away quickly – apparently it had only recently been applied.

"There, I bet that feels better." Steve murmured. Tim promptly sneezed.

"W-W-Who… Who… Who are y-y-you?" He managed to stutter.

"Steve. You remember me?" Steve replied, making sure to maintain eye contact as per Johnny's advice. "Jurassic Park, a couple of years ago? I was one of the wardens. We escaped together." Steve remembered the camouflage on his face and scrubbed at it with his sleeve.

_No wonder the poor kid’s scared, I must look like a bloody gremlin!_

"It's me, see?" A spark of recognition finally kindled in Tim's eyes and Steve saw his small body relax slightly.

"S-S-Steve? Y-Y-You were the one who k-k-killed the R-R-Raptors?" Tim stammered in disbelief.

"Me, kill the Raptors? I was under the impression it was them who damn near killed me." Steve grinned.

Tim managed a small smile in acknowledgement of this weak attempt at humour. Steve squeezed the boy’s shoulder and knelt again to examine his bonds. His wrists had been tied behind his back and his ankles to the chair he was perched on. Three cords were also looped around his chest, fastening him tightly to the cold metal seat.

"Alright, we'll have you out of here in no time. Hold still for me."

Steve reached for his belt and drew his hunting knife, but the moment Tim saw the blade he jerked away, toppling the chair over backwards. Steve dropped his knife and caught him before he hit the ground.

"What's the matter, Tim?"

There was no reply. Tim just stared up at him, wide-eyed and trembling. Confused, Steve sat the chair back upright.

_What's the problem with the knife?_

"I'm just gonna cut through these ropes. There's nothing to worry about, okay?"

Tim studied Steve's grimy face intently. He forced himself to look at where the knife lay on the ground, then back up at Steve again.

"Okay." Tim said finally, his voice barely audible.

Steve picked up the knife again. He moved slowly and, making sure to stay within Tim's vision, sliced through the ropes restraining the boy's ankles. Then he did the same for the cords around his chest, noting with displeasure the marks they left behind.

"See, nothing to worry about…" Steve repeated, gently lifting Tim out of the chair and setting him down on a nearby packing crate – he was surprisingly light. Then he cut the ropes binding Tim's wrists, before taking off his jacket and wrapping it around the boy's bare shoulders.

"Thank you." Tim said softly.

"My pleasure. Give your wrists a rub." Steve collected the remains of the restraints and hid them behind a barrel.

Tim began massaging his wrists as instructed. "Did… Did my Grandpa send you?" He asked hopefully.

"Sort of." Steve smiled. "We can have a chat about that later. Right now, we need to get you out of here."

Steve made as if to pick Tim up, but the boy pulled away at the mention of moving and tried to stand. His legs wouldn't hold him, though, and he fell back awkwardly, but Steve was by his side in a flash and caught him once again.

"Woah, take it easy."

"We can't go… We can't…" Tim protested.

"Shh, it's okay." Steve tried to calm the boy, setting him back on the packing crates and sitting down beside him, arm draped around his shoulders. "Why can't we?"

"They… They might do… Bad things… To Lex." Tim struggled to get the words out. "We can't go without her!” He repeated, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. Steve's heart went out to Tim – he couldn't imagine how scary this must have been for him.

"I see. But, don't you worry, nobody's going to leave your sister anywhere – I promise. Do you trust me, Tim?" Tim looked up at Steve searchingly, his face streaked with tears. Steve guessed this was the first time in a while he’d the chance to trust anyone.

"They said we musn't try and escape any more, or else… Or else…" Tim's voice broke.

Steve drew the boy in and held him tight, feeling Tim's eleven-year-old body trembling slightly against his own. The boy huddled closer to Steve and buried his face in the safety of the warden's shoulder.

"It's okay, Timmy, I've got you. It's gonna be okay.” Steve murmured.

_Kid gets attacked by the Rex, thrown off a cliff, falls out of a tree, gets electrocuted, almost eaten by a pack of Raptors, attacked by the Rex again and doesn't so much as blink an eye. Compare that to a few days with these kidnappers and he's in pieces. I’m going to kill the bastards._

Steve gently raised Tim's chin with his thumb and wiped away the tears with the sleeve of his jacket. "Take a deep breath, for me."

Tim made a tremendous effort to control his breathing and, after a few moments, succeeded. "S-S-Sorry…" He mumbled, a hint of shame creeping into his voice.

"None of this is your fault, Tim. They don't come much braver than you." Steve replied.

Tim's face broke into a smile at this compliment from his rescuer. Following the events on the island two years ago, the warden had become something of a legendary figure in the boy's eyes – Steve's heroics were such that his praise meant the world to Tim. At last, Dr. Grant had competition. Slightly less spiky competition.

"Now, I hate to have to ask you this, but I need to know what happened here. Is there anything you can tell me that might help me find Lex?"

Tim thought for a moment, then spoke shakily. "L… L… Lex and me tried to r-r-run away… I d-d-don't know how l-l-long ago. They caught us, b-b-but we r-r-ran again… And then they t-t-took our c-c-clothes…"

Tim paused and, remembering Steve's instructions, took several deep breaths.

"Take your time." Steve squeezed the boy's shoulder.

_But not too long. We're on the clock here._

Thankfully, Tim continued. "W…W… When we t-t-tried to g-g-get away last time, the men t-t-tied us up in here. Then… I don't know how l-l-long ago… Before it got d-d-dark I think… They came back for Lex and t-t-took her away w-w-with them. I h-h-haven't seen h-h-her since… I t-t-tried to s-s-stop them but I b-b-banged my h-h-head and… And… I c-c-couldn't do anything…" Tim was close to tears again.

Steve stepped in. "It's not your fault. Those blokes are pretty big – I reckon bloody Hulk Hogan would struggle to take them all on."

Tim didn't look entirely convinced, but most importantly, Steve was no closer to finding Lex. Still, he couldn't afford to let Tim know that. "Anyway, that's just what I needed to know. Great work."

Tim managed a weak smile in response. Two compliments from the mythical dinosaur keeper? It was almost worth getting kidnapped for. Steve winked at him and pressed the transmit button on his headset.

"I've got Tim." He explained simply. "Lex must be in one of the other tents."

"Nice one, Steve." Eddy replied. "You need backup?"

Steve considered this carefully. "What's going on out there?"

"All clear, señor." Rodriguez responded.

"Ditto." Johnny agreed.

"Okay, here's what we’re gonna do. Eddy, go and find Lex. Johnny, get in position for extract, then go with Roddy to fetch the jeep – call in when you're good to go. Are we clear?"

"Copy.” Eddy confirmed.

"Affirmative." Johnny agreed.

"Sí señor! Fry Tuck is moving out." Rodriguez replied happily.

Steve broke off from the conversation, satisfied the wheels were in motion. "There you go Timmy, a friend of mine's going to find Lex. She's gonna be fine."

Tim sniffed quietly and nodded. "Who's… 'Eddy'?"

"He's an old mate. Used to work in Jurassic Park, with me." Steve explained.

"He's a keeper, too? Which dinosaurs?" Tim asked, suddenly perking up at the mention of the prehistoric creatures. Steve smiled as he saw the boy's expression – his passion for dinosaurs had apparently not been quashed by the events of two years ago; he was just as fascinated as the warden remembered.

"Triceratops." Steve lied, not wanting to mention Raptors despite Tim's interest. "If you ask him nicely, I'm sure he'll tell you all about them later on."

Tim was apparently delighted at this notion. "That's so cool!"

"Very." Steve agreed. "Now then, shall we get out of here?"

"I guess." Tim's stutter had completely disappeared at the mention of dinosaurs and he instantly seemed much calmer. Steve got to his feet, picked up his torch and offered the boy his hand.

"Let's see if you can stand."

Tim stood, swayed and only managed two steps before his legs began to buckle. Steve caught him again, then had a sudden realisation. "Timmy, you said you banged your head. How badly?"

"It's okay." Tim brushed off the question.

"Can I have a look?"

"I guess…" Tim murmured.

Steve gently brushed the boy's blond curls off his forehead, revealing a large cut underneath. The warden cursed inwardly as he saw the surrounding hair was matted with blood.

_Why didn't I check to see if he was hurt?! Idiot!_

As Steve's fingers approached the wound, he felt Tim tense up in preparation for the pain he was obviously expecting. It had bled profusely, and even now hadn't completely stopped.

_l'm no expert, but I'd say leaking that much can't be healthy._

Steve lowered himself so that he was eye-to-eye with Tim. "Don't worry, it's just a scratch. Did you hear me talking to Johnny just then?"

Tim nodded.

"Well, Johnny's a medic. We're going to go and see him. He'll get you fixed up, but for now, I'll carry you. Okay?"

Tim nodded, too weak to protest.

Steve lifted the boy up and carried him in his arms towards the hole in the back of the tent. Tim was lightly built and easy for someone of the warden's stature to carry, so they were able to make their way straight through the hole in the canvas and out into the night. The weather had turned chilly and, despite the jacket, Steve could feel Tim shivering again.

'Angry' was not an emotion the Muldoon family looked favourably upon – Bob had always encouraged his son to look upon situations calmly and find a peaceable solution for all concerned. However, upon the rare occasions that 'angry' reared its ugly countenance, the situation usually did not end well for the antagonists. The fury of a Muldoon was, thus, not something one should wish to incur, but Steve was angry now. He was positively fuming.

_How dare they kidnap these kids, hadn't they been through enough already? Bastards trussed them up like chickens and now it turns out they’ve hurt Tim…_

At least, Steve doubted Tim had voluntarily head-butted a sharp object.

_Well, this ain't right. Not cricket. Not something I'm about to let go._

Bob had also said often that the main characteristic of the family was a powerful sense of right and wrong – something Steve had most definitely inherited. And if that didn't apply to this situation, Steve didn't know what did.

_I’m going to make these wankers pay._

Another Muldoon trademark was an exceptional vocabulary of obscenities.

Steve picked his way through the darkness towards the breach in the fence. He could see Johnny crouching on the other side, furiously demonstrating a series of obscure military hand gestures. Ignoring his antics, Steve set Tim down on the ground and whispered in his ear.

"Okay, Timmy, stay nice and low and you'll be fine. No climbing for you, this time."

The boy barely acknowledged the instruction but somehow found the energy to drag his small body under the fence. Johnny abandoned his signalling and helped Tim clamber to his feet, then caught him when he collapsed almost immediately. The medic looked at Steve questioningly from the other side of the wire, who lay down under the fence so he could speak to Johnny.

"He's got a nasty cut on his forehead which needs seeing to." Steve explained, keeping his voice low so Tim couldn't hear. "Only thing he's got on is that jacket, so better kit him out with something warm to wear. Also, maybe something to eat? The poor kid’s exhausted."

Johnny nodded and carefully lifted Tim onto his shoulder, carrying him away from the fence to where Rodriguez was keeping watch from the tree line. Steve was about to withdraw from the fence when his earpiece crackled into life. It was Eddy.

"So, d'ya want the good news first, or the bad news?"

"The good news." Steve sighed.

"I found the girl." Eddy replied. "But they’ve handcuffed her to a goddamn box. I tried filing through it, but no dice – we're gonna need the key."

"Does she know where the key is?"

"Yeah, but you're not gonna like it."

"Let me guess… In the tent with the kidnappers?"

"You got it."

"Then you're right, I'm not gonna like it. I'm gonna love it."

Eddy was silent for a moment. Then he asked, "You feeling okay?"

Steve laughed mirthlessly. "On top of the world. Meet me there."

The warden crept across the compound towards the tent he had previously seen the two men enter, the sound of laughter growing louder as he approached. Moments later, Eddy joined him.

"You sure about this?" The Texan asked.

"Can you think of any other way? Besides, you didn't see what they did to Tim. It’ll be a bloody pleasure putting the frighteners on these bastards." Steve whispered back. "Are you coming, or what?"

"You know full well I ain't letting you go in there alone. But, just so you know, I think you’re goddamn crazy." Eddy growled.

"Oh, I'm crazy alright." Steve said dryly as he drew his weapon. "Absolutely bloody furious."

Eddy also drew his pistol, struggling to suppress a smile. Mad or not, Steve was a tremendous character with his heart in the right place – and, truth be told, Eddy would follow him anywhere.

Together, they moved closer to the tent flap. Steve motioned for Eddy to flank the entrance and the Texan obeyed silently, gripping his handgun and crouching like a leopard ready to spring.

_Enough wildlife analogies. Time to get down to business._

Steve held three fingers on his left hand aloft. Eddy nodded his understanding. The young warden dropped one finger. Then two. Then three. And then they went in.


	11. Magician Impossible

“Good evening, gentlemen. Please, don’t bother getting up.”

The sight that met Steve’s eyes when he burst into the tent would stay with him for the rest of his life. Five men were seated around a small fold up table playing cards and, judging by the empty bottles on the table, drinking heavily. But what really set the scene off was the look of utter surprise on their faces; their jaws dropped comically as the two wardens made their entrance. Steve couldn’t resist a dig at their open-mouthed horror.

"I’m sorry, did we forget to knock?”

Eddy, trying desperately to keep a straight face, stepped forward and levelled his pistol in the direction of the startled occupants of the tent.

“Party’s over, boys. Hands where I can see ‘em.”

The men, still shell-shocked, instinctively obeyed and raised their hands above their heads. Steve, impressed, took a moment to savour the sight.

_That was easy._

“Alright, you lot, here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna give my esteemed colleague here the key to the girl’s handcuffs. Then, you’re gonna tell me where you’re keeping their clothes. Finally, you’re not gonna try anything funny. Do we have an accord?” Steve asked. He was met with a sullen silence – apparently the men had got over their initial surprise.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Now, the key – where is it?" Steve continued.

The silence remained unbroken.

“Tell the man what he wants to know!” Eddy waved his pistol menacingly.

“Or what?”

The man standing farthest from them spoke. He was short and bulky with a greasy black comb-over and a strong American accent – certainly not the voice of the Costa Rican mobster Steve had been expecting.

“You gonna shoot us? Eh? Eh?” The man continued, his tone more and more derisory by the syllable. Two of the others, who appeared almost identical to their leader, sniggered and experimentally began to lower their hands. Eddy sensed he was about to lose control of the situation and sidled up to Steve, intending on enquiring as to what exactly his colleague _was_ planning on doing. However, before he could speak, Steve shot the man in the leg.

The unfortunate kidnapper hit the deck like a sack of potatoes, emitting a strangled scream and clutching at the neat hole in his thigh.

“Would you like me to repeat the question?” Steve asked, his face expressionless as the words dripped with venom.

Save for the whimpers of the wounded man, there was silence in the tent once again. Steve waited for a moment, sighed wearily and raised his pistol again, this time trained on another of the identikit kidnappers.

“Who’s next?” He asked pointedly.

For a moment, Eddy thought that Steve might actually go through with his threat but, luckily, he never got the chance to find out. The first shot had been enough to push one of the remaining kidnappers over the edge and he stepped forward, hands waggling high above his head in surrender. He was taller and much thinner than the fellow Steve had shot, a shock of blond hair flawlessly smoothed back behind his ears. The warden subconsciously wondered how long he spent in front of the mirror every morning.

Steve lowered his weapon in acknowledgement of this gesture.

“Let’s all just calm down, shall we?” The man said, his voice high pitched and whiny. Steve was having none of it.

“Where’s the key?” He growled. “I won’t ask you again.”

“Key? What key?”

Steve’s pistol was trained on the man almost before he had finished speaking.

Maybe I should just shoot him? Make the world a better place?

“Okay, okay, don’t shoot! Please, don’t shoot!” The kidnapper sidestepped towards the tent pole and unhooked a bunch of keys. “It’s on here!”

“That’s more like it.” Steve snatched the keys from the man’s trembling grasp and handed it to Eddy. The Texan took them wordlessly, his eyes never leaving the group of kidnappers.

“Go and get her out. Give me a shout when you’re done.” Steve instructed.

“What are you gonna do, Steve?” Eddy hissed. “You realise these assholes ain’t just gonna let us leave, right?”

“Don’t argue, Eddy, just do it.” Steve snapped back, but his words were empty. He had no plan.

“Okay, okay… Just… Be careful.” Eddy conceded.

Steve nodded. Realising this was as good as he was going to get, Eddy turned and left the tent with a shake of his head.

“See, there’s no need for violence.” The thin man began boldly. “It’s Steven, isn’t it? My name is Dodgson. Lewis Dodgson.”

_That rings a bell…_

“Do I know you?” Steve asked sharply.

“You may not remember me, but I remember you. Such a shame about your father. Robert was a good man, and yet so foolish to work for that old fool on a whim such as this.” Dodgson said.

“How dare you say his name.” Steve growled. “Scum like you aren’t worthy to walk the same Earth as him.”

“Think about it, Steven.” Dodgson paid no heed to the gun Steve was brandishing furiously in his direction. “What we are doing here is just to teach the old man a lesson. We have no quarrel with the children – as soon as he brings us the eggs, we shall return them unharmed.” He had the audacity to throw Steve a smarmy smile. “Isn’t that what you want, Steven? To teach him a lesson? The man responsible for the death of your father?”

Then, things happened very quickly.

“Steve, it’s not on here. The key’s not on here!” Eddy’s voice crackled urgently in his ear. Dodgson, sensing something was amiss, produced a miniature revolver from somewhere and fired from the hip. Steve detected the movement out of the corner of his eye and hurled himself behind a pile of crates, feeling the bullet whizz past his cheek.

“We’ve been played!” Steve shouted into his microphone as another shot hit the boxes. The warden squeezed off a shot in reply, sending those still mobile scurrying for cover. The injured kidnapper, who was apparently not nearly as tough as he had first made out, could only lie there and snivel quietly as the firefight ensued over his head.

“Steve! Are you ok?” Eddy yelled into his ear.

“Never better.” Steve exchanged fire with one of the triplets who had produced what sounded like a 9mm pistol. The warden glanced around the tent and immediately set his eyes upon something promising – a trestle table situated to his right, upon which sat two pairs of shoes and a metallic object glinting in the lamplight.

_Keys!_

Steve fired the penultimate round in his magazine and ducked down again, his back to the crates.

“Hang tight, I’m coming’!” Eddy spoke in his ear breathlessly.

“Negative, stay where you are.” Steve replied. “I think I can get the key”.

“Don’t try anything stupid, Steve!” Eddy called desperately.

“Me, stupid? Perish the thought.” Steve fished around in his trouser pocket. He found what he was looking for, pulled the pin with his teeth and began counting.

_One, Two, Three…_

The flashbang grenades had made up yet another part of Bob Muldoon’s impressive armoury. Designed specifically to disrupt the vision of predators that use a movement-based optic nerve, a chemical reaction would take place at the eight second mark, producing a mesmerising bright light. A welcome side effect of this was the loud bang that accompanied it, earning the weapons their name.

_Four, five, six… Abracadabra!_

Steve lobbed the grenade over his shoulder and had just enough time to rip off his headset, stuff his fingers in his ears and close his eyes tight shut before it exploded.

_And for my next trick…_

Steve leapt up and vaulted over the crates, snapping a new magazine into his M1911. He reached the trestle table in a flash and grabbed both pairs of shoes, confirming with satisfaction that the metallic object was indeed a key. He turned and made a dash for the doorway, ducking low as Dodgson reared up and blindly emptied his revolver. As Steve reached the tent flap, he spun around and clinically dispatched each of the four lanterns hung from the tent poles, plunging the interior of the tent into pitch darkness. Diving outside, he fastened the tent flap shut behind him and took a deep, calming breath of cool night air.

_That should buy us a couple of minutes, at least._

He sprinted for the tent that Eddy had appeared from earlier. He was halfway there when a bone-shaking collision knocked him clean off his feet, but after a brief struggle, a familiar Texan drawl grunted, “What the hell d’ya think you’re playing at?”

“Eddy!” Steve was mightily relieved; then, not so much. “I thought I told you to stay put?”

“I couldn’t get in touch with you on the radio.” Eddy explained. “Reckoned they might have got you.”

Steve grinned. “I showed them one of dad’s old flashbangs. They’ll be deaf for an hour, after that.”

Eddy chuckled. “And the key?”

Steve nodded. “Got it. Found the kids’ shoes, as well.”

“Then what’re we waiting for?”

They turned and ran for the tent containing Lex, which seemed to take an eternity to reach. When at last Steve and Eddy dived inside, the kidnappers had already begun shouting and, by the sound of things, were searching for their elusive tent flap. Then, a female voice sounded from somewhere deep inside the tent.

“Mike… Is that you?”

“I’m back, and I brought a friend.” Eddy regained enough breath to form a sentence, obviously making an effort to be reassuring.

They went over to her. Steve saw in the half-light that she was sitting on a pile of boxes, her right hand cuffed to a packing crate. There was a pile of cords next to her that Eddy must have removed earlier.

“Hey, Lex. Long time, no see.” Steve greeted her. His first impression was of how grown up she looked – despite the dirt and torn clothing, she looked defiant and unbroken; a perfect contrast to when they had first met, over two years ago.

“Steve!” She exclaimed, recognising him immediately.

“Well, at least you remember me. It took your little brother a good five minutes.” Steve smiled as he unlocked her handcuffs – thankfully, they key was a perfect fit and turned smoothly in the lock. Eddy went to poke his head out of the tent flap to check on the kidnappers’ progress.

“You should call him Eddy, by the way. He hates it.” Steve said in a stage whisper.

“I can hear you, you know!” Eddy’s voice drifted over from the entrance.

Lex laughed, but was quickly serious again. “Did you find Timmy? Is he okay?”

“Don’t worry, he’s safe. Our medic is looking after him. He’s got a bit of a cut on his forehead and he was scared out of his wits when I got to him, but he’s in safe hands.” Steve explained. “Right now, though, we need to get you out of here. How’s it looking, Eddy?” As if to answer Steve’s question, a bullet pierced the canvas and whistled uncomfortably close overhead.

“Get down!” Eddy shouted, drawing his pistol and unleashing a volley in the general direction of the shooters. Apparently, the men had found their way out of the tent and were out to extract vengeance.

“Bloody hell.” Steve voiced everyone’s thoughts. “We’re pinned. Any word from the others?”

“No.” Eddy replied, worriedly tapping his headset. “I think the batteries might have died.”

“Oh, great.” Steve muttered, then remembered their young companion. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna be fine.”

Lex managed a slight smile back, but she was clearly old enough to understand the gravity of the situation – there was no escape route, no backup, and dwindling ammunition.

“How many clips you got?” Eddy asked.

“I’m down to my last.” Steve replied.

“I’ve got two.” The Texan growled. “Here, you’d better take one. You’re a better shot than me.” He handed the magazine over.

Steve couldn’t believe his ears. His friend would normally rather die than admit someone was a better marksman than himself, but perhaps this emphasised how desperate the situation was.

That was when the tent next to them blew up.


	12. One Angry Costa Rican

“ _Buenas noches,_ bitches!”

A familiar voice rang out across the campsite. Silhouetted by the flames from the burning tent, Rodriguez dropped his rocket launcher and opened up with two M16s, gripping one in each of his meaty fists. Unsurprisingly, the kidnappers dived for cover upon sight of the Hispanic angel of death, all thought of the wardens quickly forgotten.

“Run, run, I’m coming for you!” The massive Costa Rican bellowed heartily, kicking down the gate and advancing into the enclosure. Steve guessed the missile must have destroyed the generator for the electric fence, rendering it useless.

“I take it he’s with you?” Lex asked as, pulling on her shoes. Steve couldn’t help but marvel at her composure – it was truly remarkable how much she had changed in the past two years.

_Guess two years can do a lot to someone… I should know._

“I… Think so.” Eddy replied, a little unsure of whether Rodriguez was bravely attempting to save their lives or had gone completely crazy and was trying to kill them. Steve had no such concerns.

“Let’s go. Stay close.” He darted out of tent flap, bent double and zigzagging to avoid the hail of lead issuing from Rodriguez’s weapons. Lex followed without hesitation, forcing Eddy to do the same.

Before they were halfway to the gate, the big man ran out of ammunition. He cursed in Spanish as he reloaded his assault rifles with impressive speed, but alas, not quite quickly enough. One of the triplets popped his head up from behind an empty oil drum and, seeing that the coast was clear, emptied the magazine of his handgun in the general direction of the escaping fugitives. Now, triplet #1’s head was still spinning from the effects of Steve’s flashbang, so most of the bullets flew wide, but the last one found its mark and clipped Eddy’s thigh. The Texan span backwards and hit the ground with a muffled, “Oof!”

“Eddy!” Steve flung up his pistol and unleashed a volley at the kidnapper, who hastily abandoned his hiding place and dived for cover behind a nearby tent. The warden didn’t follow, instead sprinting to where his colleague lay on the ground.

“Ouch.” Eddy muttered helpfully.

Steve gestured to Lex to carry on running and hoisted Eddy up, half-carrying him towards the gate. Rodriguez finished changing magazines and recommenced his suppressive fire, covering their retreat.

“Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch.” Eddy observed plaintively with every step.

“Don’t be such a baby.” Steve said sternly. Eddy continued bleeding.

“Is time for us to go, eh, señors?” Rodriguez was not far behind the wardens as they reached the gate. He slung one of the rifles over his shoulder as he withdrew, using his free hand to pull the pin from a grenade and hurling the explosive in the direction of the kidnappers’ parked jeep. The vehicle went up with a muffled _*crump*_ as its fuel tank ignited, sparking strangled screams from the inhabitants of the burning campsite.

“Definitely.” Steve agreed. Lex left her position by the gatepost and came to help the wardens, taking Eddy’s other arm and guiding them into the jungle.

“Thanks, big guy. I thought we were goners back there, for a second.”

Rodriguez waved away the gratitude. “Is no problem. Pity I no kill the _pajeros_.”

As nobody really wanted to know the exact translation of ‘ _pajeros’_ , Steve changed the subject. “We have to get out of here before those bastards pull themselves together. How far is it to the jeep?”

“I left _el niño_ with señor Johnny to be safe. About a mile. Will señor Eddy make it?” Rodriguez cast a critical eye over Eddy’s wound.

“Of course.” Steve said matter-of-factly, ripping off his shirt and wrapping it around the Texan’s leg – a makeshift bandage.

“Knew you’d find a way to get your shirt off.” Eddy grumbled.

Steve grinned. “Lead the way, big man.”

Rodriguez strode off into the trees. Steve motioned for Lex to follow, before unceremoniously hoisting Eddy up and helping his old friend hop through the undergrowth. The Texan gritted his teeth, chuntering darkly as they went.

They walked/hopped/bulldozed (as applicable) for a time that seemed indeterminate. Rodriguez ploughed a path through the jungle with the assistance of a torch and the butt of one of his M16s, while Lex, Steve and Eddy plugged along in his wake. At long last, they rounded a clump of trees and came upon the jeep – Rodriguez had exercised great cunning in parking it with the headlamps facing a large rock, hiding the glow from prying eyes while creating a pool of light.

Johnny, who was leaning against the vehicle alongside a much perkier looking Tim, got up to greet them. Lex’s face lit up on sight of her brother and she ran over to him, enveloping the boy in a massive hug. Tim squirmed and murmured something about not being able to breathe, but his protests were half-hearted as he returned his sister’s embrace. The others couldn’t help but smile as they watched.

“You be careful with ‘im, now!” Johnny grinned, before turning to the others. “Sounds like you boys ‘ad quite the party.”

“Is good.” Rodriguez replied simply, bumping fists with the medic. Even the mercenary wore a smile at the kids’ display of affection as he went to deposit his assault rifles in the of the jeep. The other three exchanged handshakes and hugs in celebration.

“Fuckin’ heroic, boys.”

“Bloody brilliant show.”

“You’re a badass, mate. An absolute badass.”

_Kinda makes it all worthwhile._

“Eddy, you’re bleeding, mate.” Johnny suddenly noticed the wound on the Texan’s thigh.

“Just a scratch.” Eddy replied carelessly, the adrenaline still pumping.

“You’ve changed your tune.” Steve remarked.

“I’d better take a look.” Johnny ignored them both and led the warden to where his medical kit lay on the ground at the front of the jeep. Steve thumped him on the back and headed over to the kids, where Lex had finally released Tim from her grasp and was now sitting as close to him as physically possible.

“Hey.” Steve crouched down beside them.

“Hey, Steve.” Lex replied with a smile as wide as the jeep she leant against. “Listen, thanks for… Well, you know…”

Steve chuckled. “Of course.” He ruffled Tim’s hair. “You’re looking a lot better, Timmy.”

Tim smiled up at him. “Johnny gave me some chocolate.”

Steve winked back. “Plenty more where that came from.” The boy seemed completely different now that he was away from his captors and back with his sister.

“You’d be surprised at the natural ‘ealing powers of a Mars bar.” Johnny came over to join them and tossed two more chocolates in the direction of the kids. Lex caught both deftly.

_Must be still into baseball, if memory serves. Funny the things I can remember from that night._

“Other brands are available.” Steve quipped.

Johnny motioned to the warden to step aside. “Can I have a word?”

“’Course.”

They moved out of earshot of the children.

“Okay, I stitched up that cut on the lad’s ‘ead and dressed a couple of lacerations on his wrists and ankles. But, ‘e’s got some pretty nasty bruising to ‘is chest and, more than likely, a couple of broken ribs. I’ve set ‘im up with some pain relief, but ‘e needs ‘ospital and an X-Ray.”

Steve nodded. “He told me he fell against a crate when he was trying to protect his sister.”

Johnny cocked his head. “Listen, mate. That’s an ‘ell of a lot of damage to do by tripping over. Symptoms of a beating, if ever I saw ‘em.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Steve replied grimly. “You should have seen the state I found him in – poor kid was trussed up like a bloody chicken.”

Johnny shook his head in disgust. “That just ain’t right. Seems to be one ‘eck of a brave lad, though – ‘e didn’t flinch once when I was fixing ‘im up, just kept going on about those bloody dinos…”

*Thump*

_Speak of the devil._

Steve and Johnny exchanged glances, confirming they had both not only heard the noise but felt the vibration through their boots. A cold feeling of dread began to form in the pit of Steve’s stomach.

*Thump*

Eddy limped over to them. “Thunderstorm?” He suggested hopefully.

*Thump*

“What was that?” Lex froze mid-Mars bar.

“Probably just the wind.” Steve replied automatically.

*Thump*

_Please don’t. Not now._

“Steve.” Eddy murmured urgently.

“W-w-what was that?” Lex repeated, suddenly white as a sheet.

*Thump*

“What, Eddy?”

“The big girl’s a predator.”

*Thump*

“So?”

Lex got to her feet, all thought of chocolate forgotten. Slowly, deliberately, she began to scrape away the layer of dirt covering the driver’s door of the jeep.

“C’mon, Steve. Use your head. What’s the Rex scared of?”

*Thump*

*Thump*

*Thump*

All the realisations came at once.

_Oh, shit. Fire. The Rex is scared of fire. We’ve only gone and smoked her out._

Then;

_The kids don’t know we’re on Isla Nublar._

*Thump*

Steve had taken this completely for granted, but now it seemed blindingly obvious – as far as the kids were concerned, they had been locked up in a tent in the middle of the jungle. They could have been anywhere.

*Thump*

“Uh, Lex, Tim? There’s something you should know…”

*Thump*

Lex had uncovered the Jurassic Park logo emblazoned on the door and backed away from the jeep as if it were the dinosaur itself.

_Too late_.

“Oh no. No, no, no!” She panicked.

*Thump*

“Now, just calm down, Lex…” Steve began.

*Boom*

It was getting nearer.

“We’re back on the i-i-island! With the d-d-dinosaurs! Oh my god, oh my god, oh god!”

Rodriguez picked her up from behind. Lex struck out and tried to kick him, but the big Costa Rican held firm. He looked over at the others.

“Señors, we need to move. Now.”

*Boom*

Steve sprang into action. “Everyone into the jeep. Look sharp!”

*Boom*

Johnny ran to collect his medical kit while Eddy made his painful way over to the jeep and hauled himself onto the back seat. Rodriguez deposited Lex beside him, strapped her in so she couldn’t escape, then took a flying leap into the driver’s seat.

*Boom*

That was the sound of Rodriguez landing.

“Let’s go, señors!”

Johnny vaulted the bonnet and took his place alongside Rodriguez, while Steve raced to collect Tim. The boy was still sitting frozen against the side of the vehicle, staring at the logo on the door. Steve scooped him up and slid next to Lex and Eddy on the rear seat, holding Tim firmly on his lap.

*Boom*

“Let’s rock ‘n roll!” Eddy yelled. Rodriguez gleefully obliged, gunning the engine and sending the jeep shooting backwards down the overgrown track. Within seconds they had reached the main service road and the Costa Rican executed a textbook handbrake turn to set them facing away from the burning campsite.

*CRASH*

The Rex appeared out of the jungle, less than a hundred feet away. She paused and raised her dripping maw to the skies, unleashing an ear-splitting battle cry.

“Well, fuck me through an ‘edge backwards.” Johnny exclaimed.

“Language, Johnny. Children present.” Eddy liked to take the piss when he was nervous.

Rodriguez floored the accelerator. He liked to drive fast when he nervous; or in any other mood, for that matter. Behind them, the Rex began to trundle forwards in pursuit.

Tim looked up at Steve urgently. “We need to keep still. It can’t see us if we don’t move.”

Despite the situation, Steve smiled. “Not this time, Tim. We don’t want you to end up in a tree, again.”

“AAAAAAAAA!” Johnny let out a decidedly feminine scream as Rodriguez swerved violently to avoid a sapling sprouting from the tarmac. They had nearly ended up in a tree, again.

“Jesus, Roddy! I think I’d rather take my chances with the dinosaur!”

“ _¡Que te folle un pez!_ ” Rodriguez bellowed in the general direction of the Rex, sliding the jeep around a sharp bend by an old Segisaurus pen. The dinosaur simply burst straight through the jungle, cutting the corner altogether.

“¡ _Coño_! How fast can this _cabrón_ run?!” The Costa Rican raged.

“Forty, fifty… Give or take!” Eddy called back. Somehow, Steve didn’t think it had been a question, and very much doubted that ‘ _cabrón’_ translated as ‘blithering idiot’.

Tim looked confused. “But… I thought they could only run at twenty miles per hour?”

“Yeah, and the Raptors should have feathers, and the Dilos shouldn’t be able to spit poisonous bile.” Eddy snapped. “Artistic fucking licence, I dunno!”

“Language!” Johnny yelled over his shoulder, clinging to his seat for dear life.

A warning from Steve prevented Eddy’s retort. “Uh… We’ve got a problem!”

“Another one?!” Eddy twisted in his seat. Then; “Oh god, another one. That’s not what I meant.”

Sure enough, a second Tyrannosaur had taken up the chase. Although this one was slightly smaller than the first, it seemed faster, and was gaining on the jeep.

“¡ _Me cago en el leche de tu puta fea madre!”_ Rodriguez screamed his defiance and crunched the gears furiously.

“Language…” Johnny and Eddy murmured simultaneously. It was more a hushed appreciation of the Costa Rican’s skill in profanity than anything else.

The pursuing dinosaurs called to each other and drew closer to the jeep, despite Rodriguez’s best efforts. The road was too winding to pick up enough speed to escape and the wheels kept skidding on the uneven surface. In a somewhat futile gesture, Eddy drew his pistol and emptied the magazine in the direction of the smaller Rex – the bullets served only to drive the creature into a frenzy, and it reared up with a scream of rage before resuming the chase. Eddy threw his weapon down in frustration.

“Seriously, don’t bullets work on any of these guys?”

“We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die... I don’t wanna die...” Lex trembled.

Steve placed a comforting arm around her. “It’s gonna be okay, Lex.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, she didn’t look convinced. Steve glanced over his shoulder and saw it would be a matter of seconds before they were Rex meat.

Steve had no desire to be Rex meat.

Steve had a plan.

“It’s gonna be okay.” He said again. “Do you trust me?”

Lex searched out eye contact. Tim answered for her. “You came to save us. ‘Course we trust you.”

Steve squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “You lot, trust me?” He addressed the other occupants of the jeep.

“Does it look like we have a goddamn choice?” Eddy growled.

Steve smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes. Roddy, you got any of those grenades left?”

“Sí!” Rodriguez span around completely in his seat at the mention of explosives, all concept of steering forgotten.

“Señor, take the wheel!” He added, as an afterthought.

“AAAAAAAAA!” Johnny screamed again and dived for the steering column, somehow managing to prevent a collision with a large rock. “Why the bloody ‘ell did we let this bloke drive?”

Steve ignored him. “I’m gonna need all of them, right now.”

Rodriguez removed a belt of four concussion grenades from his vest and handed them to Steve. “ _Ocho segundos_. The bang… Is very big.”

“That’s what she said.” Sometimes, Eddy couldn’t help himself.

The smaller of the two dinosaurs roared again.

“¡ _Joooooder, por qué no te callas!_ _”_ Rodriguez screamed back, elbowing Johnny out of the way and returning to the pressing task of driving.

“Does he think they can understand him?” Eddy asked nobody in particular.

“I don’t know what ‘e thinks, but ‘e’s bloody royally pissed, that’s for sure. ‘E’s one angry Costa Rican.” Johnny replied, his knuckles white from gripping the door handle.

“Alright, Roddy, get us as close to these big scaly twats as you can!”

Rodriguez actually giggled. _“_ _¡Muy bien, señor!_ _”_ He slammed on the brakes.

“AAAAAAAAA!” This time, both Eddy and Johnny screamed as the dinosaurs reared up on either side of the jeep, emitting ear-shattering roars.

“Is close enough for you, señor?” Rodriguez inquired.

“Perfect! Now, hold on to something!”

“I’m already ‘olding on to something!” Johnny shot back. Steve pulled the pins from all four grenades.

“Eight!”

_“¡_ _Siete_ _!”_

“Six!”

_“¡_ _Cinco_ _!”_

“Four!”

_“¡_ _Tres_ _!”_

“Two!”

_“¡_ _Uno_ _!”_

“Bombs away!”

Steve flung the grenades out of the jeep and Rodriguez slammed his foot down. The front two wheels actually left the ground as they shot away from the dinosaurs, who had just enough time to exchange a glance of reptilian horror as the grenades ignited in mid-air between them. The explosion was, as promised, very big, and the unfortunate dinosaurs never stood a chance. They were killed instantly by the blast.

It was just a shame about what happened to the jeep.


	13. Rodstevez

For a moment, silence reigned. To Steve’s groggy senses, this was a glorious relief from the spinning, pinwheeling aftermath of the grenade explosion.

However, it wasn’t to last.

He gradually became aware of a series of small sounds, hauling his mind back to the reality of his bruised and battered body.

_That’s gonna hurt in the morning._

First, there was the hiss of the jeep’s fractured radiator. Then, a barely audible creak as its front wheels rotated freely. Steve suddenly realised that he was lying at a steep inclination; the nose of the vehicle tilted skywards at a crazy angle, perhaps propped up on a tree or rock. Finally, the warden felt the weight and warmth of a small body stretched out on top of him, just beginning to stir and cough violently.

With a supreme effort, Steve pulled himself up and divested himself of the remains of his seatbelt, then disentangled Tim.

“You okay, Tim?” Steve’s mouth felt as though it were full of sawdust.

“I… Think so...” Tim replied when his coughing fit subsided, moving his limbs experimentally. He seemed almost surprised when he found everything still attached. “Yeah, I’m good. That was cool!” He added with a grin.

“That’s… Not… How I’d… Describe it...” A figure, vaguely resembling Eddy, reared up from beneath the seat like a bedraggled Texan version of the Loch Ness Monster.

“Steve, you’ve got problems. Remind me to give you the number of my psychiatrist.”

Steve chuckled and helped Tim climb out of the wrecked vehicle, before releasing a still shaking Lex from her seatbelt.

“Is it… Over?” She asked.

“All over. Those two lizards won’t bother us again, that’s for sure.” Steve lifted Lex out of the jeep and climbed out himself. “Is everyone okay?”

“ _¡Beso mi culo, puto! ¡Pendejo! ¡Bastardo!_ ” Rodriguez yelled triumphantly, kicking the crumpled driver’s door clean off its hinges and clambering out.

“Very big bang, señor! That what she said, no?” The huge Costa Rican winked happily at Eddy, who shook his head in despair and limped around to the boot.

“Absolutely huge bang, Roddy! You’re the man!” Steve and Rodriguez bumped fists.

“Get a room, you two.” Eddy grumbled.

“Bloody touching moment going on ‘ere.” A dishevelled Johnny clambered down from the front passenger seat. “I’m gonna call you two ‘Rodstevez’.”

Lex giggled.

“Whatever.” Steve grinned. “Saved our arses though, right?”

“Yeah, about that.” Eddy returned from the jeep’s boot, dragging their kitbags behind him. “Next time you and your buddy here decide to blow up two massive goddamn dinosaurs, I’d at least like to be consulted first! You fellas are perfectly welcome to go around bombing whatever the hell you like, but at least give me the courtesy of a heads up so I know when to keep my goddamn head down!”

Rodriguez and Steve exchanged glances.

“No _cajones_ , eh, señor.” The Costa Rican muttered to Steve.

“You got it, big man.” Steve agreed, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Unbelievable. I’m stuck on an island with a bunch of kidnappers, bulletproof dinosaurs and two crazies.” Eddy said darkly, kneeling to check the contents of the kitbags. Lex went to help him.

“Somehow, I don’t think we’re gonna get much further in this rust bucket.” Johnny eyed the stricken jeep critically. “What’s the plan, Steve?”

Steve looked around them. They were situated amongst a clump of trees, a few feet from the edge of the decaying tarmac road. He didn’t recognise their surroundings.

“Well, we can’t stay here, but we shouldn’t travel at night. That’d be asking for trouble, and we don’t need to give the…” Steve noticed Tim listening intently to their conversation and trailed off. “Well, you know, the wildlife any extra invitation to pay us a visit.”

Eddy nodded and got to his feet. “Looks to me like we’re somewhere along A7, maybe even A6. If I remember correctly, there should be a couple of big old rock formations that way.” The Texan pointed. “If we can make it there, it’d be an easily defensible campsite. ‘Till first light, at least. We’ve got the bivvies with us, plus one spare.” Eddy avoided all mention of the scientist’s demise.

“Sounds good.” Steve agreed. “Any objections?”

The others shook their heads.

“Alright, grab your packs. Lead on, Eddy. Stay close.”


	14. Ordeal

_It’s dark._

_Very dark._

_So dark, in fact, that Tim can’t tell if his eyes are open or if he’s still asleep._

_He’s suddenly scared. Terribly scared._

_His breath comes in short, sharp gasps as he explores his surroundings by touch alone, frantically searching for something tangible – anything to prove he’s not completely lost in the pitch-black ether; forgotten, abandoned, alone._

_At last, he clasps something, but his momentary relief quickly turns to icy dread gnawing at the pit of his stomach – his finding is cold, scaly, squishy. He withdraws his hand with reactions sharpened by horror, but alas, it’s already too late._

_From somewhere uncomfortably nearby, an ear-piercing, inhuman scream rings out. And then, again; it’s getting closer. Panicking, Tim tries to stand but finds his limbs stiff and seized to the point of immobility. He tries again,_

_struggling against the impenetrable, insufferable, suffocating darkness._

_His body screams out in silent protest and a sharp pain blossoms in his chest, compelling him to cease his efforts and remain motionless. He bites his lip and forces himself to stay quiet, but his heart sounds as if it’s pounding outside his body; he’s sure it’ll give him away._

_He knows it’s out there somewhere; an unseen evil, concealed deep under the blanket of darkness._

_Tim hates the dark._

_He hates it more than anything._

_The dark is wicked, his enemy – it wants nothing more than to bring him pain, terror, despair._

_When he hears the footsteps approach, he’s barely surprised. He’s almost resigned to his fate as he hears the repetitive thudding sounds, each followed by a barely audible scrape – Tim’s mind calmly informs him that this is the noise of the creature’s thumb claw, dragging along the floor._

_Then, at last, the footsteps stop. The creature must be right beside him, bent over its helpless prey. He trembles as he feels its hot breath on his face and flinches as something brushes against his shoulder._

_Tim screws his fists up and does his best to stay completely still as the creature begins to explore his body with its claws, talons scraping roughly across his bare skin. Perhaps it will leave him alone, he hopes. Perhaps it has already eaten. Perhaps it’ll think him dead. But alas, predictably, Tim has no such luck._

_Slowly, something begins to envelop his feet; a horrible, crawling sensation that sends a shiver running down his spine. It takes every fibre of his being to stay strong, stay still as the poking, prying creepers advance up his legs. As they reach his waist and work their way across his torso, the burning starts._

_He abandons all pretence of stillness and writhes in agony, frantically struggling to shake the stinging tendrils from his body. As the sensation reaches his shoulders and encircles his neck, he cries out in terror. It’s hopeless. He’s going to die. Utterly and terribly alone, at the claws of the terrible abomination lurking in the dark._

_The crawling reaches his chin and somehow forces its way into his mouth, filling him up as he tastes the musky flavour of his impending demise. He chokes and closes his eyes, desperate not to give the creature the final satisfaction of his tears. But then, it reaches his nose, and even the luxury of air is gone. He faces the horror of feeling himself suffocating, and at last he can no longer hold back the tears._

_There’s nowhere to run._

_Nowhere he can go._

_He’s a prisoner in this cold, dark dungeon, at the mercy of the devil himself._

_Nobody can save him now._

_He’s so terribly, terribly scared._

* * *

Steve sat by the banked-up campfire, shotgun resting across his knees. He took a thoughtful swig from the canteen beside him and checked his watch.

_Almost dawn. Thank god for that._

The rock formation had, as promised, been not far from their crash site. The journey had been uneventful, although a tad on the nervy side, as Rodriguez had insisted on checking behind every tree for what he dramatically referred to as ‘monster _pendejos_ ’. Upon arrival, they had constructed a campfire on the windward side of the boulders and opened a couple of tins of baked beans. This meal was mainly for the benefit of the children, as the others had eaten before leaving the lodge. Johnny had also offered the kids the remainder of his homemade bread, but they politely declined, much to Eddy and Steve’s amusement.

_Wise beyond their years. That stuff has more confirmed kills than the Red Baron._

When the food was finished and Eddy, Tim and Lex had their injuries properly seen to, it was decided that the best thing to do would be to let the children catch a few hours sleep before dawn. It would be safer to make their way to the helipad in the light, and besides, the kids were in no fit state to travel – for that matter, neither was Eddy.

They had erected the one-man bivouacs and turned in for the night, with Steve volunteering to keep first watch. Johnny had given the warden strict instructions to wake him for his shift in two hours, but Steve decided against it – he had no desire to sleep at all while on the Isla Nublar if he could avoid it. The warden’s current habit was to stay awake for long periods at a time, allowing exhaustion to set in and eventually allowing him to drift off into a dreamless state of unconsciousness. The last thing he wanted was to have another of his nightmares here; it was important that he remained alert, kept a clear head and was ready to defend the children at a moment’s notice. They were his responsibility now, under his personal protection – something worth infinitely more to Steve than a few hours of sleep.

_There’ll be time enough to catch up on some shut eye later._

Steve yawned, stretched, and counted his remaining shotgun shells. Predictably, the total hadn’t changed since he’d last counted, five minutes before. He packed them away carefully into his ammo pouch, pulled out his pistol and began to polish it with the microfibre cloth he always carried in his trouser pocket.

Just as he was tackling a particularly nasty blemish on the side of the weapon, a barely audible sound made him freeze. He slowed his breathing instinctively and pricked up his ears, hand unmoving on the grip of his pistol.

There it was again; a soft, strangled cry, originating from somewhere by the tents.

Steve got to his feet, sliding his weapon back into its holster and drawing his torch from his belt. His keen hearing detected the noise for a third time, and on this occasion, he was able to home in on its location – it was coming from the tent in the centre of the line.

_Tim’s tent._

Gliding over the ground with an effortless silence only a born hunter can achieve, Steve reached the bivouac in a matter of seconds and, muffling the glare of the torch with his left hand, ducked inside.

Tim was laying half in, half out of his oversized sleeping bag, twisting and turning in his sleep. As Steve knelt beside him, the boy let out another frightened cry and he began to writhe, as if struggling to escape from some unseen foe. He whimpered quietly as Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently – the boy’s shirt was soaked with sweat.

Tim’s moans abruptly ceased and he jerked awake, an involuntary gasp escaping his lips. He stared up at Steve for a moment, eyes wide.

“S… S… Steve?” He whispered.

“I’m right here, Timmy.” Steve smiled, tenderly brushing the boy’s blond curls off his forehead. He kept his hand there for a moment, feeling Tim’s pulse thud against his palm. “Bad dream?”

Tim nodded a little, eyes still fixed on Steve.

“It’s okay, Tim. You’re safe now. We’re gonna take care of you.”

Tim nodded again, this time managing a small smile in acknowledgement. Steve squeezed his shoulder and again kept his hand there, holding the boy’s gaze until he felt his body begin to relax.

“Good lad. Now, try and get some more sleep. I’ll be right outside.” Steve made as if to leave. Tim suddenly reached out and clutched at the warden’s hand, then dropped it quickly, embarrassed.

“Actually, you know what? I’d like to hear about it.” Steve returned to his kneeling position as if he hadn’t noticed Tim’s gesture. The boy was grateful for both Steve’s discretion and company and sat up a little too quickly, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his injured ribs. A slight frown crossed Steve’s features, but he said nothing.

“It’s… Always the same one.” Tim began hesitantly. “I can never… Sort of… Get away. There’s… A thing. A really bad thing. Waiting for me, in the dark somewhere.” He paused and cast a sidelong glance at Steve to see how this information was being received. Normally when he brought up his nightmares with adults, he got the feeling he wasn’t being taken seriously. It was almost as if he was considered too old to have bad dreams; too old for monsters under his bed. However, judging by his expression, the warden seemed genuinely interested.

“Then it… Kind of… Comes for me.” Tim continued. “It’s usually bad, but this time it was worse. It’s got claws and teeth, and… And it tries to eat me, and then… Then…” He trailed off his breathing sped up at the thought. Tim’s small shoulders began to quiver as he desperately tried not to let the creature that haunted his every night take hold.

“That must be really scary, Timmy.” Steve said seriously, taking a seat beside Tim and sliding an arm around him. Tim forgot about his embarrassment and immediately nestled closer, tucking his head into the security of the warden’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a while.

“Do you know why we have nightmares?”

“N… N… No.” This wasn’t something they had covered in Fifth Grade yet.

“It’s our brain’s way of making sense of the things we’ve seen. It’s like a metaphor – do you know what a metaphor is, Tim?

“I… I think so.” Tim replied.

“Good. Look, I’m gonna let you into a secret – those nightmares? I get them too.”

“You… You do?” Tim sounded taken aback, as if he had assumed the teenager beside him incapable of such moments of weakness.

“Oh, yeah, all the time.” Steve continued. “Mine are just like yours. I can never run away, either.”

“But… But you kill monsters, I’ve seen you… Why’re you scared of them?”

“I’m not scared of monsters – in fact, they’re usually scared of me. I’m scared of, uh… Men in suits. With ties. Stripy, lawyer ties.”

Tim smiled, despite himself. “How can ties be scary?”

“To be honest, Tim, I think it’s more the people wearing them.” Steve smiled back. “But, you get my point – there’s nothing wrong with having nightmares, it’s perfectly natural. We’re all scared of something, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of – for me, it’s lawyers, for you, it’s terrifying ravenous monsters with sharp claws. So, the next time you have a nightmare and you wake up scared, just think of it like a metaphor – the dark is a metaphor for your room, and the monster is a metaphor for your mum yelling at you for not tidying it. Okay?”

Tim nodded and laughed a little at the last part. “Okay.”

Steve assessed the situation; it would be light soon, and time for them to head off to the helipad. He looked back at Tim – the boy seemed calmer now, but Steve had a feeling he wouldn’t be going back to sleep any time soon.

“Tell you what, let’s go outside and get you out of those wet clothes – we can sort you out a drink, too. The sun will be up soon, then we can go home.”

Tim nodded his approval. “I’d like that.”

“Alright, then. Bring your sleeping bag, it’s chilly out.”

They crawled out of the tent, Tim still wrapped in his voluminous sleeping bag, and made their way to the fire. Steve stoked the flames with a fresh piece of firewood and put some water on to boil, then went over to his pack and pulled out a clean shirt.

“There you go.” Steve handed it to Tim.

“Thanks.”

The boy slipped off his wet shirt and dried himself as best he could with a fold of his sleeping bag. As he worked on the fire, Steve couldn’t help but notice the bruises that spread across Tim’s eleven-year-old body. A hot stab of anger welled up in the warden’s chest, but he suppressed it for now; vengeance had been partially served, and the remainder would no doubt be in the pipeline before the week was out. Right now, though, his priority was getting them all off the island in one piece.

“How’re you feeling?” Steve asked.

“Better.” Tim replied, then winced as he pulled the clean shirt over his head. “But still a bit sore.” He admitted.

Steve poured the water into two tin mugs, placing a hot chocolate pouch in one and a teabag in the other.

“I bet you are.” He handed the hot chocolate to Tim. The boy took a sip of the scalding drink and closed his eyes appreciatively.

“That’s really nice.” He murmured.

“Not bad, eh? Found that in a cupboard in the canteen.” Steve took a gulp of his own drink. “So, Tim, what’s been happening like since we last hung out? Are you still into your natural history?”

Tim took another sip before answering Steve’s question. “It’s been okay. I’ve been staying at Mom’s house. I like it there, it’s kinda close to the museum.” He paused to take another drink. Steve allowed himself a quiet smile.

_He likes it because it’s close to the museum. One hell of a kid. What did he do to deserve ending up here?_

“I’ve been going there a lot.” Tim continued. “I’m sure they made a mistake with the Triceratops. In all the pictures it’s painted sorta orange, but the one at the park was more… Grey. I told the curator all about it, but he called my Mom and she took me home. Grandpa said I shouldn’t tell anyone about the dinosaurs, after that.” He took another sip mournfully.

Steve chuckled. “I bet he did. So, how’s the family? What’s Lex been up to?”

“They’re good. Lex just made the softball team – she’s playing little league next year, Dad’s very happy.” Tim stared down into his mug. “I didn’t make the team.”

“We can’t all be good at sports.” Steve consoled him.

“It’s bad, though, ‘cause I think Dad would’ve been really pleased if I’d made the team. He always says I should try harder at sports. I did try really hard.” Tim added hastily. “He thinks I’m too old to be reading books about dinosaurs. He says they’re for little kids.”

“Doctor Grant doesn’t think they’re for little kids, though, does he? Or your Grandpa? He knows all about dinosaurs, and he’s really, really old...” Steve couldn’t resist the thinly-veiled jibe at Hammond.

“Yeah…” Tim wasn’t convinced. “But if I was good at sports, then… Maybe… I think Dad wouldn’t have moved away.”

“How on earth have you worked that one out?”

“’Cause then Dad would be proud of me too and wouldn’t want to move away, and we’d go to practice all the time, and he wouldn’t shout at Mom so much. They shout a lot when he’s at home.” This was obviously something Tim entirely believed.

“Look, Timmy, I think you and I need to have a little chat when we get out of here. Maybe your Grandpa too. But, in the meantime, I need you to promise me you’ll stop beating yourself up. A lot of people care about you, more than you know. We came halfway around the world to find you, and we wouldn’t have done that if we didn’t think you were the bravest, cleverest, coolest kid ever to pick up a book on dinosaurs. And, speaking of which…” Steve fished around in his pocket.

“Thanks for this.” He pulled out Tim’s dinosaur spotter’s guide, left at his hospital bedside two years ago. The boy’s eyes lit up.

“You kept it!” He exclaimed. Then, “But you didn’t come and see me.”

“It’s a long story. But, to cut it short, after the park closed, I had nowhere to go. I ended up heading home, but was a bit short on cash. Well, very short, actually. I could only just afford a place to stay. Otherwise, I would have come and looked you up. I often thought about telling you how a Triceratops was once sick all over me.”

Tim looked appalled. “You had nowhere to live? Couldn’t you stay with your Mom or Dad? Didn’t my Grandpa help you? Your home is England, right?”

“I’m afraid they’re dead, Tim. My Dad was the head warden of this place, you see – he didn’t make it out. I did ask your Grandpa, but I’m afraid his company weren’t very helpful.”

Tim was apparently lost for words. “I’m… s-s-sorry… Steve… I… I d-d-didn’t know… I w-w-wouldn’t have…”

“It’s okay, Timmy, you weren’t to know. He died doing what he loved, and that’s good enough for me.” This was most certainly _not_ good enough for Steve, but now was neither the time nor the place to explain it to a scared eleven-year-old.

“I’ll… I’ll talk to Grandpa as soon as we get home… He must’ve made a mistake. You can come and stay with us, we’ve got a spare room and we can go to the museum and the cinema and you can take me to the park to watch Lex ‘cause I can only go with a grown up but you’re old enough and, and…” Tim paused for breath. Steve laughed.

“That sounds amazing, Tim. But, as much as I’d love to, I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly. You and your family don’t owe me anything, and plus, I don’t think your Grandpa would approve.”

“I don’t care. You’re coming to stay with us. You can have the back room or, if Mom says you’re can’t, you can come and camp in mine. Dinner is at five-thirty.”

Steve shook his head with a smile, but decided to play along. “Okay, you’ve got me. I’ll come to stay.”

Tim was just about to celebrate when something in Steve’s expression made him stop. The warden had frozen, completely motionless; mug halfway to his mouth. His eyes had locked onto a point behind and above where Tim was sitting. When Steve finally spoke, he did so softly and somehow without moving his lips.

“Tim, I need you to stay calm and keep absolutely still.”

“W-What is it?” Tim asked, terror swiftly welling up inside him.

“If I tell you, you can’t look over your shoulder. Understand?”

“Y-Y-Yes.” Tim’s voice wobbled. He sounded completely petrified, but Steve knew this was unavoidable – it was either he was brutally honest, or they’d both get eaten.

_And I’d rather not get eaten._

“Okay. There’s a Velociraptor sitting about fifty yards away from us, on top of the big rock. I’m not sure if he’s about to attack or just watching us, but it won’t be long until we find out.”

“Oh. Oh.” Tim tried hard to control his panic and succeeded up to a point. Steve had no choice but to drop the next bombshell.

“I’ll be honest, mate – it’s out of range of my gun, and if I shoot from here I might hit the tents. I need to get a bit closer.”

“Y-Y-You’re g-g-going?” Tim used all the self-control he could muster to keep his voice down. “D-D-Don’t go, p-p-please don’t g-g-go, p-p-please!”

“Listen to me, Timmy. I promised I’d keep you safe, and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. I’m just going a few yards into the jungle to get a clear shot. I promise I won’t be far away. Now, if I’m not back in five minutes, I want you to run as fast as you can and wake Mr Rodriguez. Are we clear?”

“P-p-please don’t l-l-leave me, p-p-please!” Tim whispered frantically.

“I can’t shoot from here, Timmy.” Steve’s heart broke at the fear in the boy’s eyes. “I’d stay here if I could, I really would. But I need to kill that Raptor before it and can hurt you and your sister, okay?”

Tim hesitated for more precious seconds. Steve opted for take drastic measures and slipped his pistol out of its holster.

“Okay, Tim, you see this? This is an M1911 pistol. It fires .45 calibre Hollow Point ammunition at eight-hundred and thirty feet per second. It can make a hole in a person or dinosaur up to twenty-eight inches deep, and it’s your new best friend. You ever fired a gun before?”

“N-N-No.”

_I thought all the yanks knew how to shoot._

“Well, that’s okay, it’s really easy. All you have to do is hold the grip with both hands, point it at the bad guy and pull the trigger. Just make sure it is a bad guy, not me coming back. Here you go.”

Steve offered the weapon to Tim. He didn’t take it.

“B-B-But… B-But…”

“Here, you won’t even have to use it. Holding it will make you feel better. And you’ll know that, while you’ve got my pistol, I won’t be far away.”

At last, Tim reached out a trembling hand and took the gun gingerly.

“Good boy. I’ll be back before you know it. _Ewe Mola tuepushe na mahasidi._ ”

Before Tim could reply, Steve melted away into the jungle with shotgun in hand. Shivering despite the warmth of his sleeping bag, Tim brandished the pistol and, imagining the cold yellow eyes of the Velociraptor boring into the back of his skull, forced himself to concentrate on counting the sparks flying from the campfire.

Steve crawled on his belly through the undergrowth, sliding his shotgun in front of him. He would never have admitted it to anyone, least of all Tim, but he was scared.

Very scared.

Of all people, Steve knew exactly what the Raptors were capable of, and who knew what kind of genetically engineered weaponry this particular specimen had in store. Radios, perhaps? Infrared vision? A portable missile launcher? He hated to imagine, almost as much as he hated lying to Tim. Despite his promise, he knew only too well that the solid-slug shotgun rounds loaded into his SPAS-12 were very limited in range – so much so that, for them to be effective, he would have to get up close and personal.

_Uncomfortably up close and personal._

Steve had briefly toyed with the idea of sounding the alarm and waking the others, but they would have likely been killed before they could so much as leave their tents. What’s more, he had no idea what the Raptor wanted; whether its pack had surrounded the tents in preparation for an attack, or whether the individual had simply chanced upon their camp. Either way, the only way out was to take the Raptor down before it struck.

_Fingers bloody crossed, anyway._

Muttering a quick Swahili prayer under his breath, Steve crept ever closer to where he’d last seen the dinosaur lurking. He had never been particularly religious but, as the saying goes, there’s no such thing as an Atheist in a foxhole. It’s no use taking any chances when your time comes. Or when you’d like to make your time come a little later, for that matter. The brief segment of Swahili he had spoken to Tim was a popular saying among the deeply devout Kenyan people, roughly translating as ‘Lord save us from the evil ones.’ And if the Raptors weren’t evil, he didn’t know what was.

After roughly thirty more seconds of crawling, Steve paused. By his reckoning, the dinosaur should now be no more than a few yards away – easily within range of his shotgun. Sliding the pump on his weapon back and forth, he rose up on one knee and raised the weapon to his shoulder in a single movement, ready for a clean kill.

But the Raptor wasn’t there.

Puzzled, the warden dropped down to the ground again and lay prone as he mulled this over.

_Could I have misjudged the distance? No, I can’t have. That’s definitely the rock it was standing on._

Electing to investigate further, Steve began to crawl forward. He reached the spot where the Raptor had been standing and began to search for clues, but it seemed to have vanished into thin air. There was not so much as a crushed tussock of swamp grass to suggest it had ever existed. Steve stood up and looked about him in disbelief.

_Surely, I can’t have just imagined it._

*Crack*

As if to confirm this sentiment, a noise from somewhere behind him jerked Steve away from his thoughts.

_The crafty bugger. Someone’s got big feet._

Steve threw up his shotgun and span around to face the noise, dropping to one knee. This low stance had been developed by the park ranger teams at Malliway, exploiting the fact that large predators liked to leap for their prey at head height and force it to the ground for disembowelment. Starting low to the ground allowed the ranger to unleash a few shots from a steady firing position, before ducking down underneath the charging animal. At least, that was the theory.

And it may have worked had he not been aiming at nothing again.

_I could’ve sworn…_

*Crack*

The noise came from behind him. Steve span reflexively and sighted down his shotgun, but once more, there was nothing there.

*Crack*

For the third time, the noise was behind Steve. A horrible realisation dawned upon him as he turned again and gazed at empty jungle.

_It’s toying with me._

As unpleasant as this notion was, it gave Steve a few more options. If the Raptor was playing with its food, it meant it was hunting alone. Steve was suddenly in a position of power – he could control how the twisted game of cat-and-mouse played out. If he led the Raptor away from the camp, chances are it would leave the sleeping occupants well alone.

_Sounds like a plan._

Steve started into the jungle in the opposite direction to the camp, taking care to scan around with his shotgun as he moved. While he was taking on a mission somewhat akin to self-sacrifice, he had no intention of going down without a fight. If he managed to overpower the Raptor, then great; if he didn’t, then at least he’d have drawn it away from the camp and given Tim time to wake the others.

*Crack*

_It’s following me._

This ominous sound was ironically just the thing Steve wanted to hear.

_This had better work._

He continued forging a path into the jungle for an indeterminate amount of time, sweat beading on his forehead as the cracking noises followed him. He guessed he had walked for around half a mile when he came upon what appeared to be some form of hunting track – a path forged by the passage of animals going about their nightly business. Not having the time to properly consider the consequences, he turned right and followed it for not more than a minute or two. It twisted, turned and then abruptly widened into a shallow pit concealed deep within a thick copse.

Curious, Steve pressed on into the muddy clearing, until the sight that met his eyes gave him no choice but to stop and stare in jaw-dropping wonderment.

Half-buried in the centre of the pit was a huge mud ball, reminiscent of a freakishly huge wasp’s nest. Contained within this were eggs. Hundreds and hundreds of eggs.

And then there were the Raptors. A dozen or so young Velociraptors, ranging from new-born hatchling to nearly grown juvenile. Some were play fighting, others gnawing on the clay walls of the nest, others tucking into the remains of some hapless animal that had ill-advisedly wandered into their lair.

_My god. It’s a hive. They’re breeding like rabbits._

That was when the world went black.


	15. Fun with Raptors

Steve awoke to the unpleasant sensation of a bucket of cold water being thrown over his head. As he choked and spluttered, he gradually became aware of two things; firstly, he had an ear-splitting headache; and secondly, he couldn’t raise his hands to rub it. He came to the depressing realisation that his wrists were tied behind his back.

He opened his eyes and slowly raised his head to take in his surroundings. As his vision adjusted to the rapidly dwindling jungle gloom, the first thing he saw was a pair of abnormally shiny boots. These were connected to legs enveloped in voluminous leather hunting breeches, which were in turn joined to a body, and finally, a head. A head that belonged to Lewis Dodgson.

_Cocking nora. Bet he can’t believe his luck._

“And a good bloody morning to you too.” Steve growled with a bravado he didn’t feel, struggling to raise himself into a sitting position without the use of his hands. He’d seen enough B-movies and cheap action flicks to know exactly what was coming.

“Nice to see you again, Steven. Out for a morning stroll, I take it?” Dodgson replied, his voice oh-so smooth and mocking.

“You know how it is, my legs were cramping up after kicking your arse.” Steve quipped. Dodgson chuckled; an unnatural, mirthless sound Steve imagined was ordinarily reserved solely for board meetings and wealthy clients.

“Very amusing, Steven. Quite the joker. And you know, despite everything, my offer’s still open; come and work for me, and you can get back at the old man. No one else needs to get hurt. Last chance.”

Steve ignored this proposition completely, instead cocking his head and staring intently at Dodgson’s face. “I know where I’ve seen you before… At the opening ceremony… You were the bloke who picked a fight with the business end of the baby Stegosaurus... Corporate research, I think you said... Such a shame about that suit, after all, who’d have thought something that small could produce so many... Droppings…”

Dodgson visibly bristled at the mention of this incident.

“Didn’t you work for that chemical company… Sim... Bio… Syn… BioSyn.”

“Enough bullshit.” Dodgson snapped. “Let’s get down to business. What have you done with my assets?”

Steve snorted. “Your ‘assets?’ What the hell are those?”

“The children. Where are they?” Dodgson elaborated.

“You think they’re your bloody property?! I’ll be damned if I tell you the time of day!” Steve exploded.

Dodgson gestured to someone standing behind Steve and the warden immediately felt himself hoisted to his knees by a pair of unseen hands. He forcibly calmed himself, conserving his energy.

“One final chance. Where are they hiding?” Dodgson repeated.

“Do one.” Steve spat.

Dodgson sighed, stepped forward and backhanded Steve across the face. The blow barely stung and the American bounced back, nursing his bruised knuckles. Steve allowed himself a slight smile.

“Oo, you’re hard.”

Dodgson growled and beckoned to someone standing behind Steve. One of the triplets appeared in the warden’s vision and dealt him a vicious uppercut, knocking him backwards. Someone caught him from behind and restored him to his kneeling position before he hit the floor, pinning him there in a vicelike grip. Dodgson approached once again and bent over Steve.

“Can I beg you to reconsider?” Dodgson inquired, his voice dripping with venom.

“Go fuck yourself. With a broom handle.” Steve shot back.

The triplet hit Steve again and then once more, both blows crunching into his left cheekbone with the force of an industrial pile-driver. The warden swayed groggily on his knees, but the hands on his shoulders prevented him from keeling over.

_That used to be my good side._

“Look, why don’t we start again.” Dodgson said, the smarmy edge returning to his voice. “Tell us where the children are, and we’ll be able to stop this appalling violence.”

Steve shook his head to clear it and spat blood before grinning back up at him. “Why don’t you ask your Mum, I told her in bed last night…”

The triplet punched Steve again, and this time he was allowed to hit the floor. As Dodgson bent over him once more, Steve began to laugh.

“What? You think this is funny?” A hint of irritation began to creep into Dodgson’s voice despite his best efforts to remain calm at this infuriating boy’s attempt at heroics. He was on the clock and had no time for such pointless displays of valour.

Steve spat blood again before replying with a wry grin. “Not particularly. What’s funny is… Just how royally buggered you are.”

The Raptor attack came so suddenly it would have been impossible for most men to predict. Silent like a midnight breeze they sprang from the darkness of the jungle, deadly and ready to strike with claws and teeth gleaming in the false dawn like a thousand sharpened razors.

Steve, who had noted the sudden deathly silence and realised something was imminent, used the last of his energy to roll up against a fallen log for protection. He poked his head above it and observed the carnage with not a little satisfaction.

Two of the triplets had fallen in mere seconds, pinned to the ground by four of the ravenous dinosaurs. To his credit the third managed to draw his sidearm and squeeze off a shot, but it was wild and soon he too was on the floor screaming for mercy. Aside from this madness Steve saw Dodgson had making a dash for a jeep, inside which a couple of opportunistic Raptors had evidently discovered something tasty.

The American quickly changed direction and almost made it to the treeline before he too was hauled down by one of the Raptors. Steve couldn’t quite make out what happened next but, judging by his cries, it wasn’t pretty. That was the end of Lewis Dodgson.

_The ultimate bloody killing machines._

Steve was just about to consider his escape strategy when a sound from behind him made him freeze. It wasn’t a _crack_ this time, nor a _growl_. It was a _slobber_. The sound of a creature with lots of teeth and an empty stomach.

Emitting what could most accurately be described as a resigned sigh, Steve dutifully rolled over and gazed into the cold, calculating eyes of death itself – a fully grown Velociraptor.

_Bollocks._

The Raptor appeared to be in no hurry. It looked Steve up and down once, then twice, then threw its head to the sky and uttered three blood-curdling barks. As the dinosaur’s body reared up, the warden couldn’t help but notice the Raptor was male. Properly male. There was no pleasant way of putting it – the dinosaur had a hard on.

_You couldn’t make it up. I survive all this cockwomblery once, only to come back, get tied up by a posh twat, beaten up by a couple of thugs, then eaten by a bloody horny Velociraptor. Ain’t it flippin’ marvellous._

Steve actually laughed at the insanity of it all. It wasn’t that he had ever led a normal life, but things had been nothing but crazy since he’d bid the Malliway Game Reserve goodbye. Apparently, here was where it was to end; a crazy finale to a magnificently crazy existence. To Steve’s punch-drunk senses, this was comical. Nothing short of hilarious.

The Raptor looked down at its prey, a quizzical expression somehow etched across its reptilian features. The dinosaur was young and relatively inexperienced, but even so, it had never known its next meal to behave in such a strange way. Perhaps this particular morsel was a rare unknown delicacy, or some bizarre new test set out by the pack leader. Either way, it didn’t really matter to the Raptor – it was dinner time, and if he moved quickly, he would have a whole carcass to himself.

Steve closed his eyes as the Raptor advanced upon him, teeth bared. He half-hoped that the dinosaur would finish him quickly, but deep down he knew that was not the way the Raptors worked. It would slice him open with its two horrific thumb claws, before proceeding to eat his insides as they still functioned.

_Hell of a way to die._

It dawned upon Steve that the sight of a Raptor leaning over him would have been something in common with the final moments of his father.

_Off to see the old man in the big game reserve in the sky. Hope he’s put the kettle on._

Steve could feel the Raptor’s hot breath on his face now.

_Saint Peter, here I…_

“HERE I COME, BITCH-ES!”

The deathly silence was shattered by the wonderfully familiar clatter of two assault rifles.

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAA!! OOOOORAAAAAAA! CRY SOME MOOOOOORE!”

The mighty bellow of the Costa Rican’s war cry rang out through the jungle. Before Steve even had time to open his eyes, another welcome voice sounded from somewhere close by.

“Steve! Bloody duck!”

Steve got his head down as instructed; just in time, apparently, as the next thing he heard was the roar of a SPAS-12 shotgun. He felt the breeze and heard the _whizz_ as the solid slug flew by his face and impacted the skull of the poised Velociraptor. Something warm and metallic-scented splattered across his face, before his entire body was pinned down by a crushing weight. Steve lay completely still, the air knocked from his body.

“’Ello there, beasty!”

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and slowly opened his eyes to see Johnny squinting down at him.

“Bloody ‘ell, you okay, mate?”

It was all Steve could do to nod. He felt Johnny squeeze his shoulder and then the enormous weight was lifted off him as the medic rolled the dead Velociraptor clear. He watched as Johnny looked him up and down and quickly focussed on his blood-soaked shirt. His eyes flicked back to Steve’s worriedly.

“Not… Mine…” Steve managed as his breath began to return. He rolled to the left a little to show Johnny his tied wrists. The medic sighed in resignation, drew his knife and cut the cords.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say trouble bloody followed you around.”

“What… Took you… So long…” Steve managed painfully, a smile playing across his lips as he reacquainted himself with the function of his arms.

“Took _us_ so long?! Well, I dunno, something to do with the _man-eating monsters,_ perhaps? The jungle crawling with effing kidnappers? Or the fact that it’s the middle of the bloody night! Which reminds me, next time you decide to go gallivanting off on your own, maybe make sure you’re not supposed to be on watch at the time! I don’t like having my arse woken up by a terrified kid spouting some bollocks about Veloci-wotsits and you going all bloody Rambo at half-past four in the bloody morning! Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” Steve grinned. “Is that it?”

“For now, yes.” Johnny shook his head in exasperation and offered his hand to the warden. Steve took it and hauled himself to his feet painfully.

“Seems like everything still works.” The warden sounded almost surprised. “More than can be said for those thugs, anyway.”

“Yeah, about that.” Johnny supported Steve with an arm around his shoulders as they limped towards where Rodriguez was mopping up the last of the Raptors with short, sharp bursts of his rifles. “What were they after?”

“They wanted to know where our camp was. Said they wanted the kids back.”

“I’ll bet they bloody did. Did you tell ‘em?”

“’Course not.”

“Good lad.”

Rodriguez finished his executions and came over to them, lovingly restoring one of his rifles to pristine condition with the aid of a massive handkerchief. He wore a huge grin plastered across his craggy features.

“Buenos días, señor. Is beautiful morning!”

Right on cue a ray of sunlight broke through the trees, bathing the small clearing in a glorious palette of first dawn light.

“All the better for seeing you, big man. Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.”

They set off in the direction of the camp, the warm glow of early morning sun on their backs. As they walked, Steve muttered to Johnny. “Seriously though, ‘here I come, bitches?’”

“I know, mate. G.I. José over there spent a good ten minutes telling me what ‘e was gonna shout when ‘e found you. Was a toss-up between that and something about ‘is bonus notches, I dunno.”

The Costa Rican plodded obliviously in front, taking the occasional swing with his machete at any branches that had the audacity to stray too close to his enormous person.

Steve laughed quietly. “He’s quite a character.”

“Yeah, that’s one way of bloody putting it.”

Dawn fully broke during their walk to the campsite, and by the time they arrived back, the clearing was bathed in glorious sunlight. However, as they neared the tents, Johnny abruptly raised his right fist – the universal gesture for ‘stop’.

“Just ‘old on a sec, boys.” He murmured.

“What is it, Johnny?” Steve inquired.

“Stand still for a mo… Can you ‘ear anything?”

The other two stood and listened. Rodriguez shook his head decisively.

“Nope.” Steve agreed.

“Me neither.” Johnny breathed.

Many would have considered this a lacklustre attempt at humour, but not Steve and Rodriguez. They both understood that, quite often, lack of noise is just as important as actual sound. Noise was natural; silence wasn’t. Exchanging glances, they drew their weapons, and Johnny wordlessly passed Steve his handgun. The warden took it and led the way towards the camp.

They had just reached the edge of the trees when the flap of the nearest tent flew open and out popped Tim, a strange expression painted on his features. Steve, Johnny and Rodriguez instantly relaxed, lowered their weapons and began to walk over to where the boy was standing. As he approached, Steve noticed Tim’s body was pressed unnaturally against the fabric of the tent.

_Strange…_

“Morning, Tim! I told you I’d come back.” Steve broke into a jog.

Tim remained motionless, still wearing the same weird smile that verged on a grimace. It suddenly dawned on Steve that it looked remarkably false.

_What am I missing here?_

“It’s good to see you, Muldoon.”

A head appeared through the tent flap. It belonged to Miller.

“ _Miller_?!” Johnny sounded incredulous. Miller clambered clear of the canvas and got to his feet, standing directly behind a frozen Tim.

“’Ow did… What did… You’re alive, mate!” Johnny hastened towards him, apparently delighted at the crotchety bodyguard’s unexpected survival. “We thought you were dead!”

Steve had to admit that even he was more than a little glad the man had made it. The fate he had nearly experienced at the claws of the Velociraptors was not something he’d wish upon anyone – except, perhaps, Lewis Dodgson. But, as much as they didn’t get on, Miller was a useful asset to the team; no doubt his combat experience would be invaluable in getting them off the island safely.

“Glad you made it.” Steve nodded amiably.

Miller ignored Steve completely, instead focusing on the swiftly advancing Johnny.

“Not another step.” He said curtly.

Johnny stopped in his tracks. “You what?”

“Don’t move a muscle.” Miller stepped out from behind Tim and revealed the M1911 handgun he was pressing against the boy’s head. “Or he dies.”


	16. Betrayal

“What in god’s name do you think you’re doing? Steve burst out, following a moment of stunned silence.

“If this is some kinda joke, mate, it ain’t funny. Put that bloody peashooter down and let’s get to the ‘elipad.” Johnny’s tone remained jovial, but a note of uncertainty had crept into his voice.

“I’m deadly serious, Walker. All of you, drop your guns. Do it now!”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Johnny allowed his shotgun to slide to the floor. “What the ‘ell do you think you’re playing at?”

Steve followed suit and glanced sideways at Rodriguez. He could see the big man’s reluctance to bid farewell to his beloved rifles and was likely considering doing something drastic.

“Mercenary! Put down your guns, or I’ll make a hole in this boy’s skull.”

Tim’s breath hitched in his chest, screwing his eyes tight shut.

Rodriguez didn’t know what his orders were but, quite frankly, he didn’t care. There was a bad man threatening a young boy with a puny gun, and he was in a position to shoot the bad man with two extremely large and glorious guns. This would result in the death of the bad man and the freedom of the young boy, as well as – if he played his cards right – a sizeable bonus when he returned to the old man later. Yes, this seemed an excellent plan, and he would no doubt have gone through with it if Steve hadn’t hissed in his direction.

“Roddy! Guns down. It’s not worth it.”

With a snort of derision, Rodriguez unceremoniously deposited his M16s on the ground and crossed his arms in a huff. The lack of faith shown in his bad man slaughtering skills was disappointing.

“Very wise, Muldoon.” Miller nodded. “Now, this way, and if you try anything funny then this brat will pay the price.” Tim visibly flinched as Miller jabbed the gun into the small of the boy’s back.

Steve’s jaw tightened, visualising several ways of snapping Miller’s spine as they moved towards the smouldering campfire. Miller gestured for them to sit down, then went to fetch Eddy and Lex from another of the tents. They appeared, also unarmed, and joined the others on the floor.

“Sorry, fellas.” Eddy murmured, painfully lowering himself with one arm protectively around Lex’s shoulders. “I figured he’d be injured, so I went to help him and he jumped me. Piece of shit!” He spat this just loudly enough for Miller to hear, who unsurprisingly didn’t seem to care.

“Now, you had all better listen up, because I’m only gonna say this once. In a few moments, we are going to head for the helipad. Mercenary, you will lead the way, followed by Walker, Edwards and then Muldoon. Rest assured that I will be keeping you covered from behind, so don’t even think about trying anything you – or the children – will regret. Understand?”

Johnny and Eddy nodded wordlessly, fury etched on their features. Rodriguez, still sulking, spat at his feet. Steve’s blood was boiling, but he forced himself to speak calmly. “Look, I don’t know what your game is Miller, but can’t we talk about this? Let’s just get off this godforsaken island and then we can…”

Miller cut him off. “Enough, Muldoon. You will obey me and obey me instantly, or else it will be worse for this brat.” He prodded Tim’s bruised ribs with his weapon, making the boy gasp in pain. Steve lapsed into a seething silence.

“On your feet, all of you. Mercenary, get going.”

Rodriguez hauled his massive frame off the ground, petulantly kicked at a nearby pebble and plunged into the jungle, heading in the direction of the mountain peak that overshadowed the northern side of the island. Johnny helped Eddy to his feet and followed. Steve stood, but remained in the clearing.

“Come on, kids.” He beckoned to Lex, who got up and joined him hastily. Tim was desperate to follow but had to stay put, Miller’s free hand gripping his shoulder so tightly it hurt.

“Not so fast, Muldoon.” Miller growled.

“At least let them walk with me. We’ll move faster that way.” Steve’s voice was stony.

Miller seemed to think about it for a moment, then lowered his gun slightly and gave Tim a shove. The boy took the hint. He sprinted to Steve as fast as his shaky legs would carry him and flung his arms around the warden, pressing his face into the Steve’s chest. Steve knelt and held him close, thumbs tracing gentle circles on the boy’s back.

“Hey, Timmy. Are you hurt?”

Tim shook his head. His breathing raced out of control, coming in short sharp stabs.

“Okay. I need you to stay calm for me. Can you do that?”

Tim nodded and made a tremendous effort to slow his breathing.

“Good boy, Tim. You’re doing really well. We’re gonna get out of here, I promise.”

Lex reached over and stroked her brother’s cheek.

“You okay?” Steve asked her.

“I’m fine. Glad you’re alive, by the way.” She replied, smiling slightly.

“Me too.” Steve chuckled.

“A touching reunion, Muldoon. Now, move.” Miller gestured after the others with his gun. “Try anything funny, and I’ll…”

“I know, you’ve said that already.”

They marched in silence for a while, Rodriguez bulldozing a path through the thick undergrowth, closely followed by Johnny and Eddy limping along beside him. Lex kept her arm firmly around Tim’s shoulders and both were shielded by Steve at the rear. Eventually they came upon a stream and, after some persuading, Miller allowed them to stop and rest.

Eddy sank down on a fallen tree trunk. He was obviously in a lot of pain, so Johnny gave him his last remaining shot of morphine. He only had what limited supplies he was carrying when searching for Steve and, as Miller hadn’t let him collect any of his gear, his options were very limited.

Meanwhile, Steve hunkered down next to the kids and showed them how to drink from the stream using their hands. Lex went to take her jacket off, but the warden stopped her quickly. “Best leave that on. The insects are more dangerous than the heat, out here.”

Miller swiftly grew tired of waiting and compelled them to continue. It felt as though they had been on the move for hours, the trek made even more unpleasant by the hot sun rising higher in the sky.

By the time they reached the overgrown main road, it was nearing midday. The helicopter would be arriving soon, landing on the pad around half a mile away. They had almost made it. However, Miller had other ideas. “Stop. Muldoon, where is the nearest park structure?”

Steve, elated at being so tangibly close to getting off the island, forgot that Miller was holding them all at gunpoint.

“That’ll be the helipad, at the end of this road. We’ve made good time…”

“Other than the helipad.”

“Umm… Well, I guess that would be the herbivore pens.”

“Good. Take us there.”

“What?”

“You heard.”

“But the helicopter…”

Miller pointed his gun in the direction of the children again. Eddy and Johnny instinctively stepped forward, joining Steve in shielding them.

“Okay, okay! Pens it is.”

Steve led the way away across the main road and up the rocky approach to the mountain. Some of the pens were actually caves which had been hollowed out from the hillside.

_What the hell has he got planned? If we miss that helicopter, we’re in a right mess._

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve spotted Miller checking his watch.

They reached the first cave at twenty minutes to midday. It was one of the deepest, carved into a naturally occurring recess and fronted with thick steel bars. The gate was wide open.

“Inside, all of you.” Miller ordered.

Eddy looked at him incredulously.

“You what?” Johnny couldn’t believe his ears.

“You heard me, inside. Now!”

A horrible realisation began to dawn on Steve. Looking around at the others, he saw they had reached the same conclusion.

_My god. He’s going to leave us here._

Their only hope now was to overpower Miller with minimum casualties. However, Miller spotted that his captives were preparing to attack and snaked out an arm, grabbing Lex. He pulled her close to him, holding her in a headlock and pressing his gun to her cheek.

“Get inside, or I’ll pull the trigger and ask again.”

Eddy and Steve locked eyes and came to a decision.

“Inside, guys.” Eddy turned and limped through the open gate.

Rodriguez, unsure of whether to be more surprised at Miller’s request or the fact it was being obeyed, followed. Johnny went in backwards, glaring venomously at Miller.

“At least take the kids with you.” Steve said suddenly.

Tim looked up at him in horror. “No, I don’t w-want to, please…”

“None of this is their fault. Get them to safety.” Steve’s heart wrenched but, kidnappers or no kidnappers, he knew they stood more chance of surviving on the helicopter.

Miller’s broke into a thin-lipped smile. “As it happens, I’m planning on it, Muldoon. However, I only need one.” He paused for effect. “Why don’t you choose who goes?”

Steve’s stomach knotted. His entire body felt numb. That was a decision he could never make, and Miller knew it.

“You sick bastard!” Johnny yelled from inside the cave. “Just take both of them!”

“Sticks and stones, Walker.” Miller smiled again, this time revealing a row of yellowing teeth. “We’re running out of time, Muldoon. If you don’t make your mind up in ten seconds, I’ll shoot this girl and make the choice for you.” He jabbed the gun harder into Lex’s cheek, making her grit her teeth in pain.

“Okay, okay…” Steve stalled for time. He found Lex searching out his eye contact, her unspoken message clear.

“Five seconds, Muldoon.” Miller was enjoying this.

The next words were the hardest Steve had ever uttered.

“Tim.” He croaked. “Take Tim.”

“N-No, p-please!” Tim clung to Steve’s arm desperately.

Steve dropped to one knee but found himself unable to meet Tim’s petrified gaze. “Timmy, I know you’re scared, but you’ll be safer with…” He couldn’t bring himself to say Miller’s name. “…Him. He’ll get you back to your Grandpa.”

In the distance, the faint sound of helicopter blades clattered on the breeze.

“Time’s up, Muldoon.” A smirking Miller released Lex and beckoned to Tim. “Come here, boy.”

“Go on.” Steve nodded, gently encouraging Tim forward. His heart broke as the boy looked back over his shoulder, fear, confusion and the tiniest hint of betrayal on his young features. It was all Steve could do to keep it together. He cleared his throat and called gruffly to Miller. “If you harm so much as one hair on that boy’s head…”

“You’ll do what, Muldoon?” Miller grabbed a handful of Tim’s hair by way of response, pulling up sharply so the boy was forced to stand on tiptoe. Tim cried out in pain, tears falling freely.

A low growl escaped from a dark, animalistic place, deep within Steve. He began to stride towards Miller, but Lex of all people held him back.

“D-Don’t, Steve. You can’t. Let’s g-go inside.”

“I swear to god, I’ll kill you.” Steve directed at Miller, reluctantly allowing Lex to lead him inside the cave. The threat may have sounded lame, but there was a trembling edge to the warden’s voice that seemed to unnerve Miller. The American checked his watch and slammed the cage door shut, locking it.

“You d-did the right thing, Steve.” Lex murmured in Steve’s ear.

“Goodbye, Muldoon.”

Miller made off down the hillside at a canter, dragging Tim by his arm. He had barely been gone ten seconds when a deafening yell from Rodriguez made everyone jump.

“ _Señors_ , stand aside!”

The massive Costa Rican charged at the gate. His body impacted the bars like a runaway train and the sound of the impact echoed inside the cave, but to no avail – the door didn’t budge. Disappointed at the lack of effect, Rodriguez leant forward on his knees, panting.

“No point even trying, Roddy.” Eddy limped up to the gate. “These bars are an inch thick. Nothing other than a goddamn bulldozer is gonna shift ‘em.”

For the second time in as many minutes, a thunderous cry shook the cave. Everyone turned to look at Rodriguez, but he just shrugged. “Was not me, _señors_.”

One by one, they turned to stare into the darkness at the back of the cave. Peering back at them through the gloom was a pair of enormous yellow eyes.

It was Johnny who voiced everyone’s thoughts. “Bollocks.”

Eddy turned to Steve urgently. “What used to be in this pen?”

“Betty.” Steve whispered. “The Triceratops.”

“You… Y-You don’t think it c-could still be in here?” Lex quavered, backing away and sidling behind Rodriguez.

“It bloody looks like it.” Johnny growled, eyes scouring the ground for something to use as a weapon. Of course, there was nothing.

*SCREEEEEEECH*

Another pair of yellow eyes appeared, smaller and lower down than the others.

“That’s a baby.” Eddy groaned. “We’ve walked right into her nest.”

*SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH*

“I think she’s pissed.” Johnny stepped backwards, grimacing as the huge dinosaur scraped her hooves on the stony floor.

Steve had a brainwave. “Roddy, ever seen a bullfight?”

“Bull… Fight?” Rodriguez was confused.

“ _Corrida_ , Roddy, _corrida_!” Steve aired one of the few Spanish words he knew, making the big man recoil.

“Ah, no! Is cruel, _señor!”_ Rodriguez replied vehmently.

“Yeah, well, fancy giving it a go now?”

Rodriguez’s gaze flitted from Steve to the dinosaur and back again, a grin expanding across his features as he realised Steve’s plan. He nodded appreciatively. “I like the way you think, _señor!_ ”

“Stand back, everyone!” Steve marshalled the others to the side of the cave and motioned for them to crouch down. Meanwhile, Rodriguez ripped off his massive shirt and stood silhouetted in front of the bars.

“ _¡_ _Oyé, coño, tu madre es una puta fea!_ ” He began whirling his shirt over his head.

*SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH*

With a roar, the furious Triceratops stepped out of the shadows, lowered her horns and charged. Rodriguez continued waving his shirt until the last possible second, then leapt clear of the rampaging dinosaur’s path. Unable to stop, it uttered a howl of rage and went careering into the metal bars.

*CLANG*

Despite its thickness, the door never stood a chance. It flew open, bent and buckled on its hinges.

“Come on, let’s go!” Johnny led the way outside, closely followed by the others.

Steve, the last man out, looked apologetically at the dinosaur as he sidled past. She wobbled on her stumpy legs drunkenly, shaking her beaked head to clear it. “Sorry, Betty.”

“Shit, shit, shit!” Eddy cursed from outside, hopping madly down the hillside and waving his arms in the air. The clatter of helicopter blades increased in volume and decreased again, their only hope of escape vanishing with it. “Shit!” He swore.

“Now what the ‘ell do we do?” Johnny asked, waiting until they were a safe distance from the Triceratops before sinking to the ground. “’Ead back to the boat?”

Steve looked at the others and shook his head. Lex looked in a bad way, and he hadn’t failed to notice that Eddy’s leg was bleeding again. “The boat is on the other side of the island. We’d never make it in this heat, not without water.”

Rodriguez glanced up at the sun beating down on them and growled as if trying to scare it away.

“What about Hammond’s bungalow?” Eddy suggested suddenly. “That can’t be far from here.”

“You’re right.” Steve nodded. “He’s bound to have left some supplies behind. We can regroup there.”

They set off together, trudging wearily down the mountainside.


	17. Escape Plan

“Shh.” Steve whispered. “Don’t make a sound.”

Lex shifted uncomfortably, her hands pressed over her mouth to stifle a scream.

Hidden in the workshop area of the abandoned bungalow, they could hear the Velociraptors moving around in the next room. Two of the creatures had picked up their trail a few hundred yards from the building, resulting in a mad dash to the front door. The thin wooden planks could only keep out the Raptors for a short time and they had quickly gained access, searching the bungalow for their prey.

Behind Steve, Rodriguez and Johnny worked feverishly on the hatch that led down to Hammond’s underground bunker. Suddenly, it came free, and Eddy had to dive forward to prevent it hitting the concrete floor with a clang.

“Let’s go.” Johnny mouthed, starting down the ladder.

“Come on.” Steve guided a trembling Lex to the hatch and helped her climb down. Eddy followed painfully, while Rodriguez descended last and closed the hatch behind them.

The interior of the bunker was murky, the only pinpricks of light coming from a small grating set high in the wall above them. Johnny looked around for a torch and found a rack of them by the ladder.

“Let’s ‘ave some light.” Johnny flicked it on.

“Perfect.” Eddy exclaimed immediately, spotting a crate of non-perishable food and a tank labelled ‘Drinking Water’.

“No guns.” Rodriguez remarked sorrowfully. The big man was right – the bunker seemed to have been outfitted with a tropical storm in mind rather than a dinosaur attack.

“What d’ya reckon is down there?” Johnny finished his survey and pointed his torch down a narrow tunnel.

“Only one way to find out.” Steve helped himself to a torch and headed down it, closely followed by the others.

A moment later, they emerged into what seemed to be an enormous cavern. They couldn’t say for sure, as the light from the torches wasn’t bright enough to illuminate the far wall or the ceiling. A concrete gangway led away to their right, providing access to a small wooden hut.

“What the hell is this place?” Eddy breathed.

“No idea.” Steve replied. “Roddy, check out that hut. There must be a way to get the lights back on.”

Rodriguez inclined his head and went inside the hut. A moment later, he exclaimed in triumph. “Is a generator, _señors!_ ”

There was the sound of a pull-starter being drawn, along with much grunting and cursing. Something squeaked, then there was a loud bang as Rodriguez obviously planted a boot on the offending piece of machinery.

*HUMMMMMMM*

The muffled sound reached their ears as the generator spluttered into life, bringing up the overhead strip lighting. The cavern was indeed massive, stretching a few hundred feet away to their left where it ended in a huge metal plate – apparently a mechanical door of some description. The gangway ran the entire length of the cavern and flanked a broad inlet of water, lapping against the concrete. A short jetty stuck out not far from them to which a single-engine floatplane was moored, bobbing on the current.

“’Oly moly.” Johnny gasped at the sight before them. “Did you lads know this was ‘ere?”

Eddy shook his head. “I had no clue.”

“I’d heard Hammond had his own plane, but I never knew he’d built an underground hanger for it.” Steve walked up to the floatplane, examining it closely. “Looks like we’ve found our ticket out of here.”

“You sure it’ll fly?” Eddy joined him, pessimistic as ever.

“Let me take a look, _señors._ ” Rodriguez had reappeared from the generator hut and was practically drooling over the aircraft. “Is Cessna 185, amph… Amphi… Amphib… With floats.”

Steve nodded. “While you do that, we’ll sort something to eat. I’m starving.”

By the time the others had rustled up a meal and constructed a circle of camp chairs from the storeroom, Rodriguez had the floatplane’s engine deconstructed and laid in a neat rows on the stone floor.

“Grub’s up, mate.” Johnny called.

Rodriguez trundled over happily. “She will fly, _señors._ A couple of leaks, engine clean, fix the fuel line. Three hours, maybe four, but I will do it.”

“That’s great, Roddy.” Steve leaned back in his chair, digging into a tin of baked beans.

Eddy frowned. “Does anyone here actually know how to fly?”

There was an awkward silence. As stupid as it may sound, nobody had thought so far ahead as to who was going to act as pilot.

“ _Señor_ Johnny?” Rodriguez suggested, his mouth full.

Johnny shook his head vigorously. “Not me, mate. I was in the Marines, not the RAF. I steer as far clear of bloody planes as possible.”

“We had an Ultralight back in Malliway.” Steve said slowly. “My Dad used it to search for injured animals and poachers. I sat in the back a few times. I’ll give it a try.”

“Please don’t tell me he’s the best we’ve got.” Eddy growled. The silence that followed answered his question. “Great. Our pilot has only been a passenger in a goddamn hang glider.”

Steve chuckled. “Have you got a better idea?”

Eddy didn’t.

Johnny cocked his head on one side. “’Ow long will it take us to get to Costa Rica in that rust bucket?”

Rodriguez closed his eyes for a moment, running mental calculations. Aviation was apparently his forte. “Two hours, maybe more.”

“Then it’ll be dark by the time we get there.” Johnny groaned. “No offense, Steve, but I think your first landing should be in daylight.”

“Fair point.” Steve acknowledged. “Let’s lay low here for tonight and get some rest while Roddy gets the plane airworthy. I’m knackered, anyway. We can leave at first light.”

Johnny nodded his agreement. “Sounds like a plan.”

Eddy finished eating and stood painfully. “I’m gonna have a mosey around, see what I can find. We should probably work out how to open the garage door.”

“I’ll come with you.” Lex also got to her feet, eager to be of use. “We can start in the hut.”

Eddy hobbled off with Lex in tow, eventually swallowing his pride and allowing her to help him over the rough floor. Steve smiled at the sight.

“Steve?” Johnny asked suddenly.

The warden looked over at him. “Yes?”

“What do you think Mill… That bastard meant?”

“How do you mean?”

“When ‘e said ‘e only needed one of the kids.”

Steve frowned. At the time, he had just thought Miller was trying to inflict as much suffering on him as possible. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I’ve ‘ad a thought. If ‘e’s working for those kidnappers, then ‘e must know they ‘ave a box full of DNA-wotsits in their camp, right?”

Steve nodded. He’d seen the samples himself. “Right.”

“Then why would ‘e take Tim? They’ve already got the DNA, so ‘e doesn’t need to swap the kid for it.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Shit… It was never about the samples at all…”

“Exactly. If I’m not far wrong…” Johnny paused to check Lex was out of earshot. “It’s Mr ‘Ammond they’re after.”

“They’re gonna use Tim to lure him into the open.” Steve groaned.

“I’ve seen ploys like this before.” Johnny growled. “Trade a low-value target for an ‘igh-value target. We ‘ave to get there in time to stop the deal.”

“It goes down at 8am tomorrow morning.” Steve remembered, glancing at his watch. “It’s gonna be tight.”


	18. Airborne

“Okay!” Rodriguez yelled. “I give you a spin, _señor!”_

In the pilot’s seat of the floatplane, Steve depressed the magnetos and crossed his fingers. Once they had established the starter motor was beyond repair, Rodriguez had resorted to more primitive methods to get the engine running.

*VROOM*

After a few coughs and splutters, the engine took hold. The propeller turned at idle, sending waves of ripples spinning across the water.

“You’re the man, Roddy!” Eddy called from the co-pilot’s seat. The Costa Rican beamed.

“Okay, Lex, do your thing.” Johnny stood next to her. She was perched on an upturned crate in front of a small computer display, mounted on the wall of the wooden hut. She keyed in a few commands and the door at the far end of the cavern began to creak open. The first few rays of morning sunlight crept inside, glinting off the water and throwing a speckled pattern on the walls and ceiling.

“All aboard!” Steve called.

Lex abandoned her position at the computer terminal and ran to the aircraft, hopping onto the back seat. Johnny wasn’t far behind.

“What the…” Eddy’s attention was suddenly attracted by something in the water, entering the inlet. “Is that… Is that a shark?”

To his horror, the shape was the angular head of a Velociraptor. It poked its head above water and scrabbled at the gangway, trying to gain purchase on the concrete with its razor-sharp claws.

“They can bloody swim?!” Steve’s exclamation was high-pitched, barely audible over the sound of the engine. “Why didn’t you tell me they could swim?”

“How was I supposed to goddamn know?” Eddy yelled back. “We barely got close enough to feed ‘em, let alone take ‘em to the pool!”

Another Raptor appeared in the water, closely followed by another, then another. The first one had finally managed to clamber onto the gangway and began to skitter menacingly toward the floatplane.

“Hurry up, Roddy!” Steve bellowed.

The huge Costa Rican stood silently, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. Suddenly, he stepped off the Cessna’s float and planted his feet firmly on the jetty.

“You go, _señors._ ” He growled. “I will hold them off.”

“What the bloody ‘ell do you think you’re planning at?” Johnny shouted from the back seat. “Get in and let’s go!”

Rodriguez turned to them, a glint in his eye. “This plane… She will not take all of us. Use up too much fuel. Then, we fall from the sky. Boom!” He demonstrated a massive explosion with his hands.

“And when the devil were you planning on telling us?” Eddy demanded, furious.

“Now, _señor!_ ” Rodriguez replied with a cheeky grin. “I kill these _pendejos_ , then maybe I go for the boat. _¡Hasta luego!_ ” He made for the wooden hut, a plan clearly in mind. The Raptors were almost upon them and more just kept popping up out of the water.

“He’s not coming.” Eddy ran his hands through his hair. “He’s not goddamn coming.”

“S-S-Steve…” Lex murmured in fear, huddled low in the back seat and watching the Raptors approach through her fingers.

“For god’s sake, Roddy!” Steve punched the console in frustration. He reached for the throttle and gunned the engine, sending the floatplane gliding forwards.

“’Scuse me, lads!” As the aircraft left the jetty, Johnny took a flying leap out the door. He landed gracefully on his feet and sprinted after Rodriguez. “Wait up, big man!”

Steve slammed the throttle closed, the engine note dying. “Have you gone bloody crazy?!”

“Just go, Steve! Johnny yelled over his shoulder. “Go and get Tim!”

Glancing at the Raptors’ progress, Steve knew it was too late. He had no choice.

Opening the throttle again, Steve guided the floatplane out of the cavern and sent it coursing across the waves, heading for the open sea.

“Unbelievable.” Eddy muttered as Steve pulled back on the stick, lifting the aircraft into the sky.


	19. Two Men in a Boat

“Wait up, big man!” Johnny yelled.

Rodriguez turned, an uncharacteristic frown suddenly upon his features. “Why you follow me?”

“I couldn’t let you ’ave all the fun, could I!” Johnny replied cheerfully.

Rodriguez’s frown morphed into a sly smile. “I do have much fun planned.” He admitted.

The Costa Rican was in the process of removing the safety valve from a large gas cylinder, once used by the floatplane’s mechanics for welding.

“Get the…” He trailed off, unable to find the word he was looking for. He pointed at a leaf blower, lying abandoned by the side of the hut.

“Ah!” Johnny smiled, instantly catching on. “Flamethrower?”

“Flamethrower.” Rodriguez replied, his grin growing larger by the second.

A moment later, they were ready.

“Fire up!” Rodriguez bellowed heartily as the first Raptor approached them. Johnny obliged, starting the blower with a jerk of the pull cord. Rodriguez lifted the cylinder which was now venting gas, aimed, and ignited the jet with a lighter.

*WOOSH*

The gas erupted in flame, funnelled by the blower in Johnny’s hands. It completely engulfed the first Raptor and narrowly missed the second, scorching the concrete floor and sending the dinosaurs scrambling backwards.

“Upstairs?” Rodriguez yelled over the Velociraptor’s screams.

“Upstairs!” Johnny agreed.

They moved backwards down the tunnel to the storage chamber. Rodriguez left the cylinder propped against the wall, still belching out flames and covering their retreat. In seconds they were up the ladder, once again standing in the workshop of Hammond’s bungalow.

“Bloody look out!” Johnny shouted suddenly, launching himself at Rodriguez and achieving an impressive feat in tackling the huge man to the ground. A Velociraptor leapt overhead, its jaws snapping at thin air.

“Argh!” Rodriguez bounced straight back up. “Run!”

They sprinted into the hallway, but soon found themselves pursued by another of the prowling dinosaurs. They turned into a room and found themselves facing a dead end. Rodriguez slammed the door behind him and pressed his back against it, just as a Raptor headbutted it from the other side.

“The bastards are bloody everywhere!” Johnny exclaimed, searching for a way out.

Rodriguez smiled ruefully. “We had a good run, _señor!_ ” His eyes settled on a dusty grand piano in the corner of the room. “Use to block the door!”

Grunting and straining, Johnny began to push the piano towards Rodriguez. The Costa Rican watched with interest and let him get halfway across the room before informing him. “The brakes are on, _señor.”_

“Bloody ‘ell!” Johnny glanced down and kicked off the brakes, finding the rest of the journey much easier. He rolled the piano up against the door and stood back, panting.

Rodriguez nodded in satisfaction, then turned to Johnny. “Go, I will distract them.” He gestured to the window.

“Don’t start that again.” Johnny replied indignantly. “We’re in this together, mate.”

Rodriguez grinned. “I will not fit through window, _señor,_ but you will. Go, get the boat, and maybe I join you.”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Eddy was right, you’re bloody mental!”

Rodriguez’s face brightened. _“¡Sí, señor!”_ He went over to sit at the piano. Raising the keyboard cover, he swept away the dust and cobwebs.

“Absolutely bloody mental.” Johnny repeated quietly, turning to the window. He took a run up and cannonballed through the brittle glass and landed outside with a roll. Then he was on his feet and running as Rodriguez began to play a fast-paced melody on the piano.

The big Costa Rican was apparently a man of many talents.

Johnny ran until he could run no more. The sun was high in the sky by the time he reached the far side of the island and it took him longer than he would have liked to find the boat. When at last he did, he checked his watch and realised the aircraft would have reached Costa Rica by now.

“Wonder what ‘appened.” He mused aloud, then froze as he heard the rumble of an engine in the distance. The kidnappers, perhaps.

Cursing under his breath, Johnny finished dragging the dinghy down the beach to the shoreline. The sound of the engine swiftly grew louder and he turned just in time to see Rodriguez flying out of the trees, all four wheels of his ATV off the ground. He was shirtless and bloody from countless scratches on his tanned torso, but he had the same grin on his face as always, sunlight glancing off his bald head.

“Where the bloody ‘ell did he get that?” Johnny said to no one in particular.

Rodriguez landed with a bounce and careered down the beach towards Johnny, yelling wildly. “Push off! Push off! THEY ARE COMIIIIIIIING!”

“Who are coming?” Johnny bellowed back, then took an involuntary intake of breath. Following Rodriguez down the beach was a horde of Velociraptors, numbering well over a dozen.

“Jesus!” Johnny shoved the boat into the water and leapt in, fending off the submerged rocks with a paddle. Rodriguez abandoned his ATV and sprinted the remainder of the distance before diving headlong into the boat. He grabbed an oar and joined Johnny in his frantic efforts to pull them clear.

After several exhausting minutes of paddling and fending off the swimming Raptors, the pack of dinosaurs gave up the chase and returned to the shore.

Johnny looked at Rodriguez. “We… We bloody made it.” He said, almost in disbelief.

“ _Sí, señor._ ” Rodriguez offered his fist for the medic to bump. “We did.”


	20. Showdown

“Oh god.” Eddy gripped his seat so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Oh god!”

“It’ll be fine.” Steve said through gritted teeth, sounding optimistic. Landing a floatplane on land was unwise at the best of times, let alone in the hands of a first-time pilot.

“No, it won’t.” Eddy shook his head in exasperation. “This is a stupid idea. Stupid. I mean, you’ve had some bad ones, but this is the worst by far.”

“You can do it, Steve.” Lex said from behind them.

“Thanks, Lex.” Steve glanced sideways at Eddy, taking his eyes off the horizon for the first time in a while. “Why can’t you be more supportive, like her?”

“Supportive, my ass.” Eddy grumbled.

“This looks like the place.” Steve brought the aircraft around in a steep bank. They were flying low over a nature reserve, a few miles from the coast.

Eddy squinted at the ground below. “Yeah, this is it. Remind why we can’t just land in the sea and call the cops?”

Steve’s eyes flicked to his watch. “There’s no time, Eddy. It’s 8am, the handover’s happening now. We have to get to Hammond and warn him, or we’ll never stand a chance of finding him or Tim.”

From the moment Costa Rican radar had picked them up and warned them off the Isla Nublar, Lex had insisted on this course of action. They couldn’t let Miller’s get away with both Hammond and Tim. It was time for a showdown.

“There’s a truck, down there.” Lex called out, leaning over Steve’s shoulder and pointing. Sure enough, a khaki truck sat parked in the shade of a palm tree below them.

“I’m gonna try to put her down over there.” Steve said, settling on an area of grassland that looked fairly flat. “Hold tight.”

“Oh-h-h-h my-y-y god-d-d!” Eddy’s voice juddered as the floatplane vibrated in the slipstream.

“Come on, come on…” Steve hauled the aircraft’s nose up and glided at zero feet over a clump of bushes, then lost enough speed to settle down into the grass.

*SCRAAAAAAAAPE*

At first, all seemed to be going well. The Cessna’s floats slid over the ground without a hitch.

Then one of them snagged a rock and was torn clean off.

*SNAP*

The doomed aircraft cartwheeled across the terrain, nose over tail, leaving a trail of twisted carbon fibre in its wake and eventually coming to a stop upside down.

“Ugh…” Steve coughed, fumbling with his harness. He detached it and immediately crashed to the floor, which had until very recently been the ceiling. “Everyone okay?”

“No!” Eddy replied wholeheartedly, also falling from his seat as gravity took hold. “You goddamn near killed me!”

“I’m okay.” Lex reported, somewhere behind them.

Outside, shouting voices could be heard swiftly approaching the crash site.

“We need to get out of here.” Steve wiggled free of the fuselage through the smashed cockpit window. He offered his hand to help Lex as Eddy struggled out of the other side.

“Quickly, hide over there.” Steve pointed to a thicket of palm trees a short distance away. Lex looked reluctant, but did as she was told.

“I’m gonna check out that truck.” Steve whispered to Eddy as they both dropped and lay prone in the long grass.

“I’ll try and find Hammond. Good hunting.” Eddy crawled off in a different direction to Steve, taking care to avoid the gaggle of six or so men in militia gear, all heavily armed. Evidently hired muscle, they arrived at the crash site jabbering loudly in Spanish and began to poke about in the wreckage.

Steve left them to it.

He approached the rear of the unguarded truck, thankful for its shadowy surroundings. Using the bumper as a foothold, he clambered up and slid inside the khaki canvas that enclosed the cargo area of the vehicle.

Inside was dark, hot and stuffy. It smelled terrible. Although the truck was mostly empty, Steve recognised a handful of crates from within the tent on the Isla Nublar – doubtless they contained more DNA samples. Moving further forwards, Steve spotted a shape huddled in the far corner.

“Tim?” He called softly.

The shape shifted and crept forwards, moving on hands and knees and eventually appearing in a ray of watery sunlight that filtered through a crack in the canvas.

“S-S-Steve?” Tim stammered, scarcely able to believe it.

“Hey, Timmy.” Steve whispered, taking the boy in at a glance. While there were no signs of further injury, his eyes were red from crying and salty trails ran down his cheeks. He was still dressed in his school shorts and Steve’s oversized shirt, now grubby and torn.

“Y-Y-You c-came back for me…” Tim murmured, his voice quiet. “I-I th-thought I’d never s-see you ag-again.”

“Of course I came, Timmy.” Steve’s heart melted. He approached the boy and dropped to one knee, gently running the fingers of his right hand through Tim’s blond curls.

“W-Why did you m-make me go?” Tim abruptly threw his arms around Steve, burying his face in the warden’s shoulder. A strangled sob escaped him. “I w-was s-so scared…”

“I’m so, so sorry, Tim.” A lump formed in Steve’s throat as he held the boy’s small body tight against his chest. He found himself never wanting to let go. “I… I just wanted you to be safe.”

Tim pulled away slightly, looking up at Steve with tear-filled eyes. “I’m s-safe with y-you.”

Steve didn’t know how to respond. He felt his own eyes becoming wet and blinked quickly, suddenly trying to look anywhere but at Tim.

“I... I’ll never let you go again.” He settled on, finally.

Tim broke into a tired smile. To Steve, it seemed to light up the darkened interior of the truck. “I know.”

There was the sound of muffled voices from outside. Tim pressed himself closer to Steve again, panicking. “He’s c-c-coming...”

Steve ushered Tim behind a crate, ducking down so as not to be visible from the entrance to the cargo area. “Who’s coming?”

“The m-man who locked you in the c-cage and took me f-from school.” Tim whispered.

A million lightbulbs went off inside Steve’s head at once. “It was the same man? Miller?”

“I d-didn’t know his n-name, but y-yeah.”

_He was never working for the kidnappers… He WAS the kidnapper! That’s how they got so close to Hammond…_

There was a clang as someone mounted the rear of the truck.

Steve stared deep into Tim’s scared brown eyes. “Listen, Tim, I need you to hide. Whatever you see or hear, don’t come out unless me or Eddy call you. Understand?”

Tim’s breathing quickened, but he nodded a little. “U-Understand.”

Steve gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “Good boy.”

“Bring the brat out here!” Miller’s tones sounded from somewhere uncomfortably close by.

“I’ll get him.” Another voice, also American, replied. Steve crept towards the entrance and secreted himself behind the nearest crate. He watched the man enter, stand barely a foot away from him, and call out in a way that made the warden feel sick.

“Timothy? Oh, Timothy, darling? Where are you?”

Steve noticed that, despite the weather, then man was wearing a leather flight jacket and combat trousers.

_Must be the helicopter pilot. He’s in on it, too._

“Timothy?” The man called out in the same predatory, singsong tone, moving past Steve’s hiding place. This was all the invitation the warden needed. Steve reared up like a King Cobra, taking a flying leap at the man from behind and knocking him to the floor.

*CRASH*

Steve bashed the man’s head into the metal floor of the truck, once, twice, thrice. His body went limp beneath the warden and he ceased his struggling, out cold.

_One down._

The warden turned and, high on the success of his victory, jumped down from the truck.

This was a mistake.

Miller stood facing him, gun levelled at John Hammond.

Steve wasn’t sure who looked the more surprised.

“S… Steven?” Hammond exclaimed, incredulous. He almost dropped his ivory walking stick. “You told me he was dead…” The old man turned as if to chide Miller, then remembered the bodyguard was no longer in his employ.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance, Muldoon.” Miller narrowed his eyes and turned his gun on the warden. “You and those two brats.”

*SWISH*

Eddy broke cover behind Miller, trying to catch him by surprise. His progress was hampered by his injury though and he made too much noise, giving Miller time to spin and squeeze off a shot in his direction.

“Argh!” Eddy dived for cover as the bullet whizzed narrowly past him.

“Now, Steven!” Unexpectedly, Hammond swung at Miller with his cane, rapping him across the knuckles. Unprepared, Miller lost his grip on the gun and it clattered to the floor.

“Bad move, old man.” Miller dealt Hammond a vicious backhand, sending him flying.

But then Steve was upon him.

Fuelled by a mist of hatred, Steve slammed into Miller like a runaway train. The two men dropped to the ground, grappling furiously, but the highly trained Miller swiftly began to gain the upper hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw a flash go by him as he struggled to keep his neck out of Miller’s iron grip.

*CLICK*

“Get off of him.” Lex said, pointing the gun at Miller.

Miller froze, hands still poised over Steve. He turned his head to look at Lex, a thin-lipped smile on his face. “What are you gonna do, brat? Kill me?”

“She won’t.” Steve growled. “But I will.” He twisted beneath Miller and sent his knee crashing upwards into the man’s groin. Unprepared, the American doubled over in agony and rolled off Steve.

“Thanks, Lex.” Steve was on his feet in an instant, hand outstretched.

“No problem.” She smiled, passing Steve the gun.

Steve moved to where Miller lay winded on the ground and focussed the weapon on him.

“Go on, then.” Miller spat, goading. “Shoot me.”

*BANG*

Steve shot him.

“Jesus, Steve!” Eddy arrived finally, hands pressed to his face in horror. “You’ve gotta stop doing that, man!”

“You fucking son of a bitch!” Miller screamed, writhing on the ground and clutching his wounded right thigh. “You shot me!”

“I’m not a son of a bitch.” Steve smiled darkly, lowering his smoking gun. “I’m the son of a hunter. That was for the kids.”

“You’re crazy. You’re goddamn crazy.” Eddy shook his head slowly. He didn’t really mean it.

“You can come out now, Tim!” Steve called.

A moment later, a tousled head popped out of the rear of the truck, eyes lighting up at the sight of Hammond. “Grandpa!” Tim jumped down and sprinted to the old man, leaping into his arms. Lex, pure happiness on her face, went to join them.

_“¡Esta aquí!”_

A shout from behind them caused Steve to turn and raise his weapon, anticipating whatever new threat awaited them. It was the militia from earlier, returning to investigate the gunfire.

Hammond, arms still wrapped around his grandchildren, faced them. “You can take the truck and go. The samples inside will fetch you a pretty penny.”

The men held a brief conversation in Spanish and evidently decided that they wanted more than just the samples if they were to leave peacefully. However, before any of them could act, the sound of sirens in the distance seemed to bring about a change of heart. Apparently the plane crash had drawn the attention of the local authorities, too.

“ _¡Vamos, vamos!”_ One man, their leader, shouted as he leapt into the driver’s seat. Pausing only to heave the unconscious helicopter pilot out the back, the militia roared off in their truck as the sirens grew louder.

Hammond turned to Steve, palms resting on the heads of both Lex and Tim. “Thank you.” He said quietly. “For saving my grandchildren.”

Steve had so much he wanted to say. So much anger, so much pain, so much sadness. He’d waited so long to let it out. But, the sight of the children reunited with their grandfather rendered him incapable of any such articulation

“It was nothing.” He said softly, after a while.


	21. Son of a Hunter

“To the son of an ‘unter!” Johnny said loudly, raising his glass.

“Son of a hunter!” Rodriguez and Eddy echoed, bringing up their own. Steve blushed deeply and laughed as they all drank.

They were seated in luxurious comfort aboard Hammond’s private Learjet, cruising at 38,000 feet. Each man had a pint of the finest Costa Rican beer in his hand, provided by the smiling stewardess who was in the process of concocting an in-flight meal which smelled delicious. Hammond had remained behind to arrange for both Miller and his accomplices’ incarceration, while Tim and Lex’s parents were flying out to bring the kids home themselves. However, the four ‘Merry Men’ had jumped at the chance for a private flight home.

“Go on, what happened then?” Eddy asked.

Johnny snorted. “Then, the big man came charging down the beach, waving his arms about. I’m like ‘what, Roddy?’ And he’s all like ‘they’re comiiiiiiing!’”

The others burst out laughing at Johnny’s account of Rodriguez’s exploits on the island. The Costa Rican coastguard had picked them up shortly after clearing the reefs that surrounded the Isla Nublar but, having nothing to charge them with other than helplessly drifting in an unpowered dinghy, had been released upon their return to dry land. They were reunited with a triumphant Steve and Eddy at Hammond’s hotel shortly after.

“I can’t wait to have a nice, hot bath.” Eddy drained his beer wistfully.

“It’s a shave and a proper cuppa, for me.” Johnny stroked the stubble on his chin. “What about you, Steve?”

Steve shrugged. Truth be told, he didn’t have much to go back to. Picking up litter in the murkier corners of London seemed a far cry from the past few days. “Guess I haven’t really thought about it.” He brushed off the question.

Eddy frowned, suddenly remembering their conversation in Hammond’s Drawing Room. It seemed a lifetime ago. “Where did you say you’ve been living?”

Steve shrugged again, evasive. “I’m renting a flat in London.”

“Doing what?” Eddy pressed. “Are you on your own?”

This was a harder question to answer. Steve clicked his tongue and looked away. “Yeah. Not much, really. A bit of… Uh, cleaning, here and there.”

“Jesus.” Eddy broke off to call the stewardess. “Darlin’, please could I get a refill?” He held up his empty glass. The stewardess smiled at his crooked grin and obliged. “Okay, where was I? Oh, yeah. I’ve started working at a zoo-type place, back home in Texas. Only part-time stuff, but it’s a start. I’ll introduce you to the manager. You can stay with me until you get settled.”

Steve smiled ruefully. “Thanks, Eddy, but I couldn’t possibly freeload…”

“Don’t argue with me, Muldoon!” Eddy growled, but there was a playful note to his voice. “I may not be your Dad, but I’ll have you over my knee faster thank you can goddamn blink.”

The others laughed. Steve held up his hands with a smile. “Sounds like I don’t have a choice.”

“Damn right, you don’t.” Eddy grinned back. “What about you, Roddy?”

Rodriguez spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. “Mr Hammond said he needs a new bodyguard. Maybe I will do this, for a while.”

“Remind me never to bloody cross ‘im, then.” Johnny chuckled.

Rodriguez nodded solemnly. “I will crush you.”

The others looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing again.


End file.
